I had a tub resurfacer, Gary, come over this evening to fix a spot on my stove where I chipped off a chunk of porcelain a few years ago (this is what you get for trying to cook!).
He was a hoot, a short little guy with one of those quirky Southern personalities and using all sorts of Southernisms, etc.
When he opened the itty, bitty jar of porcelain repair the smell was overpowering. I told him I loved the smell of those types of things and he said he did, too, so we enjoyed several whiffs before he said we better stop because he heard smelling too much of that sort of stuff could make your hair fall out. Hence the photo below, of Gary.
