One of my eccentricities is a reverence for Glade.  Yes, I did say “reverence.”  If any commercial product can be said to be holy, then it is Glade — it effectively assails even my sneaker smells, which are the olfactory equivalent of whatever demon troubled that little girl in “The Exorcist” (1973).

I settled last night on the “Apple Cinnamon” variation.  For some reason, the stores in Virginia do not carry “Lilac Spring,” and I’m disappointed, because I absolutely am weird enough to have a favorite Glade.  Insert whatever joke you like to question my manhood here — I don’t care.  It takes a real man to admit he loves the smell of lilacs.  “Vanilla and Lavender” also figures prominently in my value system.  I am perfectly comfortable with this part of myself, and I know I’m not the only one out there.  I might start a Glade Pride movement.  AND I SHOULD BE FREE TO MARRY WHOEVER I WANT.  Including Caroline Dhavernas.

I especially need this perfectly designed product after a tray of nachos and cheese recently overturned in my new backpack.  That event has resulted in the smell of nachos and cheese every time I open my backpack, which is weird.  The upside, though, is the smell of nachos and cheese every time I open my backpack, which is F*****G AWESOME.

I figured I might be sending a weird message if I walked around as the human equivalent of a Mexico-themed scratch-n-sniff sticker, however, so today we are going to Glade that bastard.  (Glade enthusiasts will occasionally use the product’s name as a verb.)