I have more dreams about proper hygiene than I used to. Maybe it’s approaching middle age, or just the fact that I no longer flip burgers for a living, but I’ve started to have night terrors about social ills such as bad breath and perspiration. The days of being a teenager and only worrying about grooming as it related to meeting girls have long since passed. Those were the days when I owned an economy sized can of Right Guard. Wonderful stuff, Right Guard was. I received a can upon graduating the fifth grade and it lasted through my Junior year in college. There was no issue of not using the Right Guard. The can was just enormous. Some of the worst days of my teens were when I mistook my mom’s can of Aquanet for the Right Guard and shellacked myself with hairspray. No wonder my grades were so bad. Some days I couldn’t raise my hand because my arm was hairsprayed to my side. We knew nothing of climate change in the 80’s. There’s still a hole in the ozone layer over my childhood home that scientists have linked to my giant can of aerosol deodorant. The ozone was so depleted that we choose not to have a lemonade stand as kids. We just walked outside with bacon and let it cook for all of our neighbors.
Now I have dreams about being a stinky sort of person. I wear Wilhelmina mints around my neck at night so that I can ward off bad breath. What a weird thing to start dreaming about. I used to dream about cars, and women. Sometimes women and cars. Dreams these days are of hygiene-ville, where I’m looking around for my lost can of Old Spice. It isn’t easy being an adult, but it sure smells better.