Dishsoap and Dead Farts

Keegan and I arrived safe and sound today at my sister’s. Getting here was an adventure. Most of it was the good kind of adventure, with laughter and hard snowfall and snarking about people at breakfast. But our hotel last night was a bit of an ordeal.
It pretty much started when we got into our beds and were settling in.
Keegan: Did you fart?
Me: No.
K: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, I’m sure. I don’t smell anything (as soon as those words left my mouth I smelled it. It smelled like something had died) Ewww. I think it’s coming from my bed!
It smelled like someone had farted and then made the bed relly fast, like a present for the next person to sleep in that bed. We laughed our butts off until long after the smell dissipated.
When I finally rolled over to go to sleep, I found my face off the pillow I had brought from home and sort of in the crack between the two hotel pillows. It smelled rather strongly of liquid dish soap. It was very odd. Keegan was all “Just keep your head on your own pillow, you’ll be fine. Dish soap and dirty farts…”
“Dude. Remind me of that in the morning, that is so going to be the title of my blog post tomorrow.”

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