The visitor currently gracing our lobby has evidently just taken a bath in Chanel. I mean, seriously taken a bath in it. Filled the tub to the brim with hot perfume and climbed in, ignoring the burning it must have caused her more sensitive areas, and then just marinated for a good 45 minutes. Oh, with the burning and the screaming. Oh, the humanity. Oh, the stench. Then I’m assuming she climbed out and layered her scent (like the bitch at The Body Shop is always pressuring me to do—No, really, I just want the soap) with body cream, lotion, powder, splash and spray. Perhaps spritzer. She probably burned a Chanel-scented candle while she applied her makeup. Then she stood in the rain to soak the scent in good and hard before she walked into my lobby and assualted my poor, unsuspecting senses. My eyes are burning and my throat is closing up. I am taking every third breath into my own hair. If I don’t post again, it’s because I have asphyxiated.