The man who smelled of vanilla

That sounds like a story title. Ooh, maybe I should do a short story of it!

Okay, updates, updates... I haven't got much to say. I've just finished my exercise for today (10 minutes on an exercise bike, 10 minutes on a step machine, both of which are in my garage) so I'm a little out of breath and quite possibly blind from the bloodrush (forgive any typos! Ha ha)

While I was in the city yesterday I passed two men (well, I actually passed quite a lot of men, and several women too, but these men were particular). One was a sharply dressed businessman with slicked-back hair and a briefcase. He had the assured, self-confident look of a man who is sure of himself and his skills, and is using them for his advantage. As he passed me, I almost gagged. He smelt of stale ciggarette smoke, sweat and money.

About half an hour later, a homeless man walked past me, a dirty blanket tucked under his arm. His clothes were shabby and dirty, and his hair and beard were unkempt and tangled. But as he walked past me, I was surrounded by the smell of vanilla, sweet and lovely, which surprised the hell out of me, let me tell you. It was amazing, the difference between the two men, which is why they were particular.

I may have to write a story about this *runs off to do so*