Another Installment of Two Sense Short: SOLID MOLD

"It smells so good," Aimee said as we walked to the store. "It smells like," her eyes grew wide. "It smells like fried chicken."

"Thanks," I said. "You know, I really miss the smell of fried chicken."

I do, despite the fact that I don't even eat the damn bird. And even if I did, I couldn't tell the difference between fried chicken and fried dog puke.

It got me thinking how most of the smells I miss are associated with taste. I don't miss aromas all that much unless they are associated with taste, like fried chicken, bacon, and sour cream. I know that last one sounds weird but I miss it and I don't know why.

As for smell, in some cases, it's a good thing I no longer have the sense.

The other day I went to see a lady for an article I am writing. The woman has a terminal illness. She smokes two packs a day and drinks nothing but coffee. The carpet was stained. The table was sticky. The walls were stained yellow.

And there I sat, unaffected. A few times I wondered just how bad it was. I forgot shortly after, and remained in the dirty, liquid-stained chair, next to coffee tins full of cigarette butts.

I guess it's a blessing and a curse.

On to a different topic:

Lately, I've been noticing that my towels have gone missing. I'll see it hanging throughout the day. When I go to take a shower it will be gone.

I confronted Aimee. I asked why she keeps using my damn towels. I tell her that I never notice until after I shower. And then I have to run around the house stark naked for a new towel.

I was expecting an apology from her.

Instead, she admitted to taking my towels. She said she has to take them because they start smelling of mold.

What would I do without her?

Probably smell like a big piece of mold.