Showering with the Damned

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There’s this little boutique-y shop downtown that makes its money by selling small portions of its floorspace to the REALLY small business craftsperson.  The business is kinda like the farmer’s markets that pop up in cities all over the country, only year round and with the comfort of HVAC.

I’ve often bounced around the idea of renting my own floor space in the place to open up a new visibility point for my chainmaille.

Aaaaaanyway….This particular boutique has a stall for this craftsperson who makes soap.
It’s fantastic stuff, this handcrafted soap.  They add colors in swirls, make the stuff smell amazing, and the bars get their intended job done.  My favorite scent (of the moment) is an almond/cherry mix, although I’ve also been particular to their sandalwood spice mix in the past.

So, last night, shower happened.  Here I am, sudsing up without a care in the world, and I look…really LOOK… at my bar of sweet & bubbly solidly saponified fat…

I looked up soap-making quite some time ago…fascinating process!

And it occurred to me that there’s a rather demonic face being rubbed all over my…

let’s just say…

feminine bits.

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A bit TMI?

Not sure if I should use the rest of the bar, or craft a protective circle around it and attempt to exorcise the demon?

Evil shouldn’t smell this sweet…

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