If anyone is in need of a sniffer dog to solve a crime just give me a call - I'm currently in possession of a blood hound's sense of smell. Should the local hunt be short of a hound I'm your girl - if someone can pull me along in a cart because I really don't have the energy to run.
So it goes without saying then the nasty niffs are readily picked up and tranformed into stomach turning hell. The effectiveness of my overactive olfactory sense was demonstrated to excess last night when Mr Jones returned from a post football pub session.
He was soon asleep, snoring the foul stench of toothpaste mixed with beer into the atmosphere of our room. Bless him. I buried my face under the duvet and proceeded to suffocate. I shoved him to stop the snoring and received a brief respite. I'd just dropped off when he turned towards me and let out a huge sigh - I was awakened by stomach acid rising up my gullet.
Thus I spent the night sleeping on my left side, with my back to him. This morning I am the proud owner of one very crumpled left ear which aches when pressed. I did not sleep well. It goes without saying that Mr Jones' next pub trip will be followed by a night in the spare bed.
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