A bloodhound

I quit smoking (again). Yay me! Good job and kudos to my will power and resolve.

I thought my life would be all fine and dandy with improved lung capacity and a renewed sense of taste. But I forgot about a very important benefit that comes from smoking: it greatly inhibits your sense of smell. No, I’m not being ironical. When you live the city life, a powerful sense of smell┬ácan be construed as nothing other than a terrible curse.

Now that my olfactory perception is of superhero status, I feel like a freaking bloodhound.

Bloodhound on Scent

Every smell, no matter how faint, totally overwhelms me. From the ripe body odour and reek of unwashed hair from my fellow bus riders, to my boyfriend’s bad breath, to cigarette smoke, to rotting garbage, to urine, to mouldy old food. Every single ┬áscent so pungent it is completely nauseating.

Why can’t I live in the countryside where warm breezes bring the scent of wildflowers and hay? Or sunshine and dust? Or rain and the smell of plants softly growing?

Nope. I live in a city full of sewage, trash, and sweat. At least it’s winter so the odours are constantly being washed away by the rain.

On the plus side, this new irritation means I am crazy motivated to clean (even more so). And now the dirty laundry has zero chance to pile up.

On the down side, I feel like barfing all the time and I am going through my perfume and febreeze like no tomorrow. I use so much of the stuff it’s starting to make my throat sore.

I guess it’s a small price to pay for that whole avoiding cancer of the pulmonary system thingy.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

captain nose hero!

I wonder what my next newly discovered superhero power will be?

 

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