I have an addiction to taking showers. In the past 36 hours I have taken four of them. That is one for every nine hours of living these past couple of days, and I am not the least bit ashamed to admit it. There is something so amazing about washing off the grime of the day and putting on a cool pair of cotton pajamas.
I have an addiction to clean towels. Matter of fact, I only use a towel once before I throw it in the wash. My husband is the same way. We got a full set of towels from my brother and his wife as a wedding gift, and I wouldn't let him use them. Not yet. These are soft plush towels, the kind you want to keep around for a long time and more importantly, are not the towels I use when I bleach my hair.
Maybe I am a little weird, but I like clean smells. Being an army wife, I find amusement in the simplest of things such as putting a spritz of my husband's cologne on a piece of paper and walking around with the paper against my nose.
I dislike poopy smells. To me, bathroom spray is poopy spray and I don't understand why people can't courtesy flush when they go kayaking on the toilet. If you are going to pitch a tent while in there, at least be kind to the animals who wander in after you.
I can't stand gas. Being married to my husband has ruined that for me. He has a reputation for making noises in his mouth that sound like the world's worst gas. Case in point. A couple of Christmases ago (when we first started dating), we were in the Holiday/Garden Center at our local Walmart (which is horrific enough), when to my utter horror he started to make gas noises. The poor lady in front of me thought I was the one doing it. He died laughing until I turned around, grabbed the front of his shirt, and hissed at him to knock it off. Can't complain though. Growing up with two very athletic brothers, I was forced to endure their endless shenanigans in the back half of my parents van on long distance roadtrips. Their favorite thing to do was eat the raunchiest, methane inducing food possible, not clue me in on what was about to be expelled and watch my face when the scent finally hit my nose. To make matters worse, they used to lock the windows so I couldn't let any fresh air in and they would bust a gut laughing watching me dry heave. Oh well, boys will be boys and I married a shower loving, clean towel sniffing, gas passing Soldier who is all mine. I feel a shower coming on...drats, all my towels are in the wash right now!