The Mold People

We just got engaged today, and we smell like donuts.

Let me explain.

There's mold growing on the air in our bedroom. Being in Baguio, there's mold everywhere, but Tim has this idea that the mold we have is aging into yeast, (are they the same family? It doesn't matter. This theory is what counts.) and the yeast is rising into donuthood. (And the clincher of the theory is that we are now being taken over by the Mold People and slowly being mind-controlled into not cleaning anything because the smell is soooo pleasant. Our bathroom smells like a vanilla muffin.)

Seriously, when we smell each other, we always say, "You smell like X donuts," wherein X is either strawberry, cinnamon, bavarian, et. al. We could sniff each other's collars all day, because dagnabbit, we do smell like X donuts.

And we got engaged today. We shopped for a ring at around 4:00 in the afternoon, and ended up in the mall. All the PhP 473,939 rings are blinged to hell, so we settled for a moderately-priced one with Swarovski stones in it. All throughout the trip we smelled like donuts.

We don't go out too much, and we returned home after going for the ring. We are growing mold in here, smelling like donuts, talking about honeymoons in Chicago.

The thing is, after being engaged, you return to the very things, the very sights, and smells - that made you be together in the first place. We returned to everyday, ordinary things - Tim watching the SpaceX's Crew Dragon demonstration flight return to Earth, me cutting my nails - and both of us slowly infiltrated by the Mold People.

Time. What grows metals for your rings, and smells for your donut butts, and what will keep you going, hopefully, into a future of more vanilla cupcakes and cinnamon goodness.

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