The ‘Scent’ of a woman

Last week my grumpy old Landlady finally threw me out.
It was coming, I could tell, for some time now. She has had her scrawny eyes on me ever since I set the kitchen on fire.
When she ultimately gave me the kick, she chose to be nice and had the packers wait outside while she consoled me. It would be alright, she said, the University hostel (where I was destined to move in) didn’t have any kitchen and so I was completely safe, no chance of being thrown out ever again.

The transition from the 700 sq. ft. appartment to the 200 nothing sq. ft. hostel room has not been what one would call ‘rippleless’. For starters, there is the room mate.
To be fair, I have never been much of a team player. But even if I played football I wouldn’t be able to tackle the mini monstrosity I now sleep with.
She is a nice girl, of course, quick on a joke and all that. But what really defines her identity, what really sets her apart, marks her out in a crowd is her absolute, vehement, stubborn reluctance to take a bath.
That suits me fine.
I am all for individual choice and all that. And truly who am I to question her personal principles about hygiene. But if only she wouldn’t insist on sharing my clothes!!!!!!!
Every sleeve she slips her arms into, every scarf she winds around her unwashed neck becomes a blackhole of impenetrable odour.
I have tried to ‘introduce’ her to the idea of deodorants or anything else, which might, unassumingly obstruct her personal stamp of fragnance, but in vain.
Of late, when she is asleep and unaware I have (guiltily) sprayed around her and under her to help pierce through the halo of stench. But nothing has been of much help.

To add to my current misery the lady in question has recently acquired a man (!!!!). With this creature, who is either sensually challenged or has been rendered ‘breathless’ by love, she romps around rather noisily till the wee hours of the morning while I, loveless and deprived, study what Bordwell has to say about the debatable concept of Modernity(!!!)

HmmmPh.
Tough year ahead, I can tell.