Michelle, Ma Bell Ringer.

File this under "I'm Trying."

Michelle, by Balenciaga.  Torpedoed by...no, it's not the fruit compote...for though that can go one way or the other for me...and I *want* to say it's the aldehydes, which are there, but pesky...gosh, I know people I often nod in agreement like this...but what IS that thing that won't get out of my nose?  That keeps interrupting me whenever I try to pay attention to any other part, and says ME, MEEE, and flavors both isolated elements and the whole?

I'm not having a good time here.  I'm trying.

Ackergh.  What in the world?

Get out of my nose!!! What are you???  I'm supposed to be finding tuberose in here!!!!*

Oh.  Helg tells me.  Its...bug spray.  Gosh, I love Helg.  Golly, but I don't get "tempered and tamed."  Maybe Muse in Wooden Shoes will end up taking mine.  She likes it loud.


*Terry Pratchett quote: "Five exclamation points, the sure sign of an insane mind."  Clearly, Michelle has driven me one mark shy of being committed.