It's the flatulence. The stench of another passenger who thought they could drop one mid-air and get away with it has infiltrated your nostrils, bringing you back to reality which has now become a sensory nightmare.
|Whoever smelt it, dealt it.|
As the smellee, however, we eventually resign ourselves to the fact that it's natural, reasoning it has to happen and if planned well, no one will ever know it was you.
Well I'm living that dream, people!
Yep, that's right, can't smell a thing. NOT A SINGLE THING.
Sounds heavenly, right? There's no mad nagging to take the rubbish out in my house. Haven't washed the dog? Who cares?! Have to use the toilet but someone's just been in there? No problem, if I can accept the slightly warm seat it's business as usual.
It's not all roses, however. There are several rather important drawbacks to nostril failure and quite frankly, they stink:
1) Is this food off?
There have been four, maybe five occasions in the last couple of years where I've opened a packet of chicken mince bought at the supermarket to discover it had turned. It looked OK, but it smelt horrendous. Is it OK to eat off chicken?
Not even a little bit OK. It's severely NOT OK to feed your family rotten chicken. But without the trusty schnozz, it's a real risk in my life and it was only a month or two ago that Miss 6 saved us all with her supersonic snout, noticing the odour just seconds before I slapped the foul foul into the frying pan. Miss 6, a tops chick.
2) Do I need a shower?
Is it possible that I've been the stinky person at work, forgetting to deodorise and completely oblivious to a bad onion smell that's driving my colleagues away? No, I'm going to go with no....but.... am I?
3) There's no chocolate in my chocolate
With reduced smell comes reduced taste. Logically, one would therefore live on spinach chips and a matchbox-sized piece of boiled chicken, snacking on lettuce when the kids have gone to bed.
Sadly, my inability to taste food has in no way stopped me from eating it. I have consumed just as much chocolate and crap of late with comparatively no enjoyment as I did last year when I could taste the difference between a pink Skittle and a red Skittle with 100% accuracy.
Now I'm just adding fat for purely mental reasons. Comforting.
So next time your dog drops a silent but deadly while you're watching Game of Thrones, resist the temptation to kick your wannabe dire wolf in the blurter and be thankful that you know you are clean, you did not poison your children and the Toblerone you're about to consume will bring you actual joy, not just imagined joy.
If you're wondering why I can't smell anything, well, honestly, so am I. I'm off to the specialist in June to see if I can't get this snorkel back in action.
Until then, smell ya later.
If you could pick any nose, who's would it be?