Just follow my nose! It always knows.

I have a remarkable sense of smell. It may be because I don't eat much spicy food, drink coffee or smoke, or it could be that since my sister and father lose their sense of smell intermittently I'm getting a stronger sense out of some karmic familial smell scale. Whatever the reason, I can smell things like Haley Joel Osment sees dead people. Normally I'm pretty happy with this gift. I can tell how many hours a carton of milk has left and I'm a masterful perfume shopper (it's all about those beets Wendy). When I read Perfume by Patrick Suskind I was horrified to discover that I could really understand the serial killer protagonist because he experienced the world through smell and truly understood its power.

There are times when my blessing becomes a curse. Like all superheroes, I must pay for my greatness. While Daredevil is the hero who's afraid of really loud noises, I am the heroine who can be brought to her knees by vomit inducing smell. My current secret weapon against bad smells (coffee breath, someone sweating off booze or that smell someone has when they just really should have had a bath that day) is smelling my own wrist. I'm not trying to suggest that I'm just best smelling thing since black currants, because I'm actually fairly manic about the way I smell, I just am always wearing perfume. It's a great weapon for getting through nauseating situations.

However it seems that I have an enemy I don't think I can conquer. It's the people on the first floor and whatever the Hell they cooked for dinner tonight. It may be because I'm a tad under the weather and therefore more sensitive than usual to stinks, but as I walk down to the laundry room I have to use all my willpower to not vomit on their door and ask if that's what they'd cooked. I think I actually described it to M as a serving of ass with puke on the side. Of course when he goes to check on the drying, he can't smell a thing. This leads me to believe that the smell isn't actually there and it's like the olfactory equivalent of noises that only dogs can hear. Sigh. Bless the scented candle.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana

HRH