"The Smell of Money"

Movies use that line to describe someone who is ambitious. I hate the smell of money. I think it's the inks that are used to print it and I'm pretty sure they offgas for decades. Get paper money really close to your nose (not advisable) and one can detect the lingering smell of stale cigarette smoke or the stench of sweaty palms. Just imagine where that money might have been? In the hands of people who don't wash their hands after they use the restroom, in the pants pocket of a dirty homeless person who urinates on himself, dropped on the floor of a gas station bathroom, between the breasts of a stripper or down the pants of a male stripper. Good Lord! Money is nice to spend, but to handle it? It grosses me out. I prefer the line "Money is Evil."

Yesterday I ran errands most of the day going in and out of stores. I rarely have a problem, but I know where to shop, which cashiers to avoid, and I pretty much avoid all shoppers as I skirt the edges of the store and move quickly. I have the system memorized and well-rehearsed. 

When I arrived home I looked in my coin purse to see what was left. Damage assessment. Whew! Someone gave me a handful of money drenched in perfume. It was in a tight little wad so it came from one place and it must have happened so quickly I didn't notice it at the time. Grab my change, thank the cashier, stuff it in the coin purse, shove it in my purse, leave. Transaction is done. It's automatic. I rarely take the time to smell the money at the check stand.

STINK! I almost shoved it back into the purse to get it away from my air space, but that would continue to contaminate everything. I grabbed a plastic baggie from my drawer and sealed it in. I needed to get rid of it. I drove to the gas station and gave it to the attendant.

"I don't know how much is in there, but I'd like to get some gas." I smiled. "It stinks," I said as I stepped back as if I thought it would explode. He opened it and counted $17.00. Hmmm...that must have been the grocery store where I bought the batteries. "Tena" was the checker's name. I'll need to remember that.

It never ceases to amaze me how a chemically sensitive person can be poisoned. It can come out of left field just when you let your guard down.

I've never liked the smell of money anyway.