and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

I cooked with garlic on Saturday afternoon. Parmesan, Tomato, and Garlic pasta salad with Pea Soup (also lots of garlic). Afterwards, my hands smelled of basil and cayenne pepper enough to somewhat cover the crisp garlicy stench embedded in my finger nails but later that night only the garlic smelled through.

I washed my hands.

On Sunday I got up and went to breakfast at the local diner. I had fruit and a bagel with cream cheese and Mountain Dew. I never have soda but coffee didn't sound quite right that Sunday afternoon. Can't say why. Can't say why not. My fingers, unfortunately, still smelled like garlic.

I went home and took a shower. I scrubbed myself up and down and then I got on the phone with a few people. Sundays always end up being my catch-up days on the phone. When I was through with that I still smelled garlic on my hands so I washed them up with dish-washing detergent and headed out to a friends house to catch the rest of the Packers/Eagles playoff game. The Eagles won in overtime with a field goal by Akers but my hands still smelled like garlic.

Monday, as always, I wallowed in bed well past my alarm's incessant bleeping. Something lately has kept me rooted there, more rooted than I'd like, so I stuck it out till the guilt was powerful enough to overcome the laze. 9:50 A.M. Maybe 10. I thought about showering but I just brushed my teeth and combed my hair instead. I washed my hands one more time.

In a meeting this afternoon, 44 hours and four washings hence, my hands still smelled of garlic. Any thought of basil was gone but the garlic continued on.