The Stinker

I live with a man who stinks.  Often and strongly, Phil stinks like he's been hanging out with the horses on a rainy day.  Or, like a man who doesn't hold the value of cleanliness too dear.  Phil's body odor has on more than one occasion been a topic of conversation -- introduced by other people -- when Phil is  not present.  His stink is well known.  He doesn't "believe in" deodorant.  He thinks shampoo causes his hair to fall out.  And he thinks the "soap industry" has us all fooled.  

All this might be fine and good if Phil didn't work a job doing hard manual labor all day, coming home covered in any combination of metal shavings, sawdust, styrofoam bits, grease, paint, and glue. 

The other morning I found myself uttering the words, "Ever since you started wearing that kaftan, you've been bathing less and less, and I've found that I've finally discovered my threshold of your stink!" 

He said OK.  I'm sorry. 

And then he put on his kaftan and went to work.