I threatened in my latest issue of The Minor Hours and Small Thoughts Magazine that I would start putting these experimental archaeology write-ups in their own separate posts– and I threatened in my regular blog that I would start using header images like LiveJournal icons. Behold, a two-changes-in-one update to our format! (Signifying two threats realized, aka a Hamlet Surprise.)
But with regard to my soap experiments in particular I’ve lost some momentum, so best to reorient ourselves in the narrative.
Let us briefly recall the heady days of “Soap: Fit the Eighth,” wherein I finally created a beautiful soap:
Figure 1. The freshly rolled wash-balls of neroly. Surely I have cracked the code now!
Yes indeed! My long travails: over. My days of soap horrors: no more. The world was beautiful and full of joy, and I would definitely have no cause to change my opinion on the matter whatso-fucking-ever.
Which brings us to… late April 2023. Eleven days after I first made them, ten days since I checked them, and an endless eternity of baseless belief in my ultimate triumph… I entered my workshop and came upon: THEM.
Figure 2. The now-dried Wash-Balls of Neroly. Or for the more discerning:
The Unfortunately-Humorous Wrinkly Salt Balls.
On the upside? They no longer smelled like a field of flowers, and they didn’t taunt me with the scent of a bakery case of cookies.
(Possibly because that would be TOO KIND.)
No no. For whatever reason, on that tragic April afternoon, I discovered that these scratch-meister double entendre wonders fooled the senses and destroyed the mind by smelling like nothing so much as very expensive candy.
…which I am still not supposed to eat, apparently.
Discover more from Katherine Crighton
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Katherine Crighton 