in the end, the cinnamon scent is worth it

When Matt and I voted tonight, there were several local candidates at the polls.  While I signed in, Matt chatted with one of the candidates, and he looked awfully familiar to me.

That's because he was.  I'd met him a few weeks ago.

While Matt was hunting last Saturday morning, I enjoyed a leisurely morning with several cups of coffee and all manner of morning television.  Around 10:30, the doorbell rang.  I had ordered a dress online and it was scheduled to arrive that morning, and since I work from home and have a husband who is addicted to Amazon.com, I know our mailman always rings the bell when he leaves a package at our door.  So I opened the door in my fresh out of bed, pajama clad state, and to my surprise, there was a man in a suit standing there.

Note to self, next time, use the peephole.

The man was holding a stack of political pamphlets, and he asked me if he was at the home of a registered voter named Matt.

I didn’t want to tell him that Matt was out and I was home alone because STRANGER DANGER, but he asked if he could ask me a few questions and since I love nothing more than a good poll, I was all in.

First, he asked if I knew who Matt would be voting for next week.  I wanted to say, “Well sir, he is currently hunting and when he gets home he will turn on the Nascar race, so that should give you a pretty good idea about which way he leans politically.”

But instead I just answered all of his questions and then went on with my Saturday, which included shopping with my mom and a trip to the spa and dinner with Matt’s mom, and I arrived back home that evening feeling ALL KINDS OF RELAXED.

I walked in the house and the smell of cinnamon overwhelmed me. 

Since the beginning of the fall, I have looked at and smelled and considered the purchase of a bag of cinnamon scented pine cones at the grocery store. However, the grocery stores keep the pine cone display outside due to the overpowering cinnamon scent, so by the time I am ready to check out I totally forget about them and thus, I have spent this whole fall pine cone-less. 

It’s been tough, but I’ve powered through.

So, back to last Saturday.  After I recovered from the smell, I looked around the condo to see pine cones, everywhere. 

They were here.

And here. 

And even…here, strategically spread out for maximum scent dissipation.

Now, Matt enjoys home decorating as much as the next guy, which is to say, hardly at all.  And by the look on his face, I could tell there was an ulterior motive for the pine cone displays.

“I bought you these pine cones today,” he said.  “And…I bought some other things…and you might not be thrilled about them.”

I braced myself and asked what the purchases were.

“Well, I bought a bag of Kit Kats.  And..a two year membership...to...the NRA.”

I only wished I had that information earlier in the day to share with our local representative along with the hunting/Nascar info.

But as it turns out, he and Matt talked for quite a while tonight and he actually lives on our street. Maybe one of these days he will stop by again and they can continue their conversation.

And I can explain why we have pine cones all over our house and everything smells like cinnamon.