Distraction by olfaction

You would think having a superior sense of smell would be a good thing. Like having a brilliant brain or an athletic gift. But no. 

Having a really great nose is like having a psychosis. You sense dangers where nasonormative people don’t. You recoil from stinks to which they are oblivious. You’re distracted by their expensive perfumes, their body odor, the cooking smells on their clothes. Everyone thinks you’re hallucinating—and kind of annoying.

But consider the facts. A year ago, I smelled a rat—literally. My concerns were brushed aside, but the odor lingered. Lo and behold, a few days later, the super pointed out mouse turds and urine under the kitchen sink when he came to fix a pipe. 

Natural gas is an unrelenting curse. I smell it often, and there’s always a reason, if I’m rude enough to investigate; sometimes a neighbor’s pilot light has guttered out, sometimes our own. Don’t even get me started on the water. About once a year it smells—exactly—like dirt. My husband shakes his head wearily. But if I search the media, I’ll turn up reports of similar complaints by neighbors and explanations that the city has shifted water sources.

The past week or two, I’ve been haunted by sulfurous fumes. I haven’t found the source yet—the odor lurks under the sink one day, inside the garbage can another, and sometimes it’s suffused throughout the apartment. 

Is it the devil? Is it the olfactory exhalation of Donald Trump’s last days of the presidency? I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s something.

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