Purely Complimentary, My Dear Watson

I've been on a streak lately of complimenting Mr. T in such a way that he has interpreted my words to be more insulting than edifying.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Seemingly, the more heartfelt my compliment, the more his eyebrows furrow as if to express his amazement at how I can say such a wondrous and odd thing with such pure intentions as to bless him.

For example...

Mr. T was coming up the stairs the other day and I pulled him into a hug and proceeded to "breathe him in".  As it stands, he always smells good, apart from post-lawn mowing types of activities and the like.  One of my favorite things about being married to Mr. T is the whole hug/breathing him in combo.  I find it very comforting.  Anyway, I was in said process when I exclaimed, "Hey, you smell like my Grandpa's bathroom!"

Mr. T's eyebrow's furrow, of course.  

Mine furrow in return because, at that moment, I can't fathom him receiving my words as anything else but complimentary.

And that's because I loved my Grandpa!

I miss him.

And his bathroom had a distinct smell that I remember with great fondness.

Not a smelly, bathroom smell.

Something different that I could never describe to you, even if I had a million words at my disposal.

And I haven't smelled it since my Grandparent's house was sold.

That is, until Mr. T came up the stairs a couple of days ago.

So, you can see what a wonderful thing it was that Mr. T smelled like my Grandpa's bathroom and how my telling him so was nothing but purely complimentary.

I'm sure he's so excited to see what sort of sweet nothings I write in his Valentine's Day card this year.