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Iranian Roommate

I have three pairs of shoes I wear. One is sandals, one is runners, and one is old. All of them smell? Maybe they do, and I can't smell them. Or maybe they don't, but they look like they would smell, so just the sight of them causes a stink.

I was on the trolley once, in a foreign country with a big bag on, and my sandals were tied to the bag, and the trolley was crowded, and my sandals bumped into the nose of a foul oul woman. She gagged and quickly covered her nose with her fingers and waved her hands as though by waving the smell might be dispersed. I had smelt my sandals before, and smelt nothing but sweetness and mirth. There was obviously something wrong with the oul woman. But just to make sure, when I was far, far from the trolley, I untied the sandals and gave them a whiff. They were tangy, to be sure, but not freak out gag tangy.

I leave all three pairs of shoes by the door, so that I don't walk on the floor with them. The shoes by the door is also an indication if I am home or away. My roommate, from Iran, doesn't leave his shoes out, so I have no idea if he is home or away. Maybe, in his culture, to leave your shoes out is the most horrible kind of disrespect under the sun, which warrants death by hanging.

I didn't get to thinking like this until my roommate started cooking food, putting it in a pot and leaving it out for days until it started rotting and stinking. Maybe that was his way of telling me that my shoes are a god awful disrespect, and that I will be rotting in hell (like his food) for such an offence.

I have taken the liberty of hiding my shoes. Hiding them in the pantry.

2 comments:

JMH said...

Your roommate sounds skilled at indirect communication.

ponks said...

it´s maybe the same thing like you don´t think your own farts smell bad? but other´s farts.... yak! terrible..
my shoes smell too.