Four Senses Instead of Five Isn't So Bad (In my case)

Disclaimer: Before you all read this and think that I am the mother-in-law from hell, let me assure you that I had SnL's permission to tell this story. In fact, he seemed rather excited to read what I might make of tonight's events. So I'm nowhere near as cruel as this is going to seem :D

I am a very lucky person, sometimes, in that I have no sense of smell. It's annoying when writing stories where I have to remember to describe scents and actually have some idea how. But when it comes to having infants and SnLs in the house, it's a blessing.

In his defense, SnL has a job which requires him to spend most of the day on his feet. What this does to his feet is not only cruel to them, but cruel to everyone else in the immediate vicinity. He's always argued that really, they're not that bad and everyone in the house with a nose is exaggerating. Until tonight. Tonight was the kicker.

SnL worked a 12-hour shift today. That's a lot of hours to be standing up and brewing lord knows what in your shoes. A few minutes after he arrived home, DJ started rolling around on the floor with her t-shirt clamped to her nose, gagging and screaming for someone to open the door.

Inexplicably proud of this reaction, SnL started to laugh.

Then the Munchkin's little face crumpled and he started to sob and swipe at his face in desperation. Apparently being really little, having a feeding tube up his nose, and at living at floor level does nothing to help him.

Still, SnL laughed.

I can't say I smelled anything because I never have ever smelled anything, but about the time I realized that it was SnL causing the reaction and not the cat, I also realized I was having trouble breathing. Something.... thick... was in the air. So thick that I couldn't seem to inhale.

"Oh, good grief!" I cried and stumbled for the door. My eyes were actually watering. DJ was only partially conscious and the poor little Munchkin was sobbing like his heart would break.

"Come on!" SnL said. "It can not be that bad. Stop being so dramatic."

Then, he walked toward us from the bathroom. The cat took one sniff, her eyes went wide and she raised her back. When he kept coming, she took off. He went after her, because Preshy has always loved him, but not tonight. In a very clear panic, as if on the run from the devil, Precious tore around the house even worse than when she has a case of crackercat.

SnL's face fell.

The shower started running.

"Are you washing your feet?" DJ called.

"Yeah. The cat doesn't exaggerate."

Yes. It is fair to say that it's times like this when I am immensely grateful for my anosmia. Long may it last.

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