The Nutty Lady at the Coffeehouse
That’s me. I bounce from one table to the next as new people sit down. Once I even shifted all my stuff to a new table, started to sit in the chair and then moved everything back to one seat over from where I just was. It’s not like I just moved my latte back and forth. I also have a computer, iPod, water bottle, bag and sweater.
I needed to escape from someone’s perfume. It’s a sickeningly sweet floral-ish scent, which would be disgusting even if it weren’t a headache trigger. I’m having a good day; there’s no way I would wreck it in the otherwise lovely coffeehouse.
The perfume is being overpowered by garlic sauteed in butter. That smells fabulous, but the cloying scent has already done its damage. And the woman across from me just put on lotion. . .