Life In The Slow Lane...
My photo
San Diego, CA, United States
This is a commentary about the slow lane, about the slowing of time since I suffered a severe brain injury while skateboarding with my dog. This is a blog about recovery; about our '82 VW Westfalia. It's about writing, surfing, camping, married life, bleeding ulcers that make you feel old at 32; about family, friends, and my dog Artie; it's about cruising in fourth gear, getting passed by every car and learning to appreciate every second of it.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Two Sense Short: Wet Dogs and Farts

"You're lucky you can't smell because it smells like wet dogs and farts in here," my friend said after we hopped into his truck.

It was raining outside, the three dogs in the back seat had been couped up for days. To add to the multi-layered shit cake, it was the day after a night of drinking and he was losing an internal battle with his stomach.

He rolled his window down and I just sat there, sense-less.

Normanosmics (read: people that can smell) often say there are both positive and negative aspects to not smelling. But, I'm starting to miss even the most horrible and putrid of odors.

Sure, at times it's good to be Anosmic (read: technical term). For example, it's great that I no longer pick up the aromas in public restrooms, or that I can't smell dog shit as I scoop it up from my yard, or the damned stench from the cat box.

But when you don't smell anything, you eventually begin to miss all scents, even the aroma of dried-up cat turds.

It seems odd to say that I wish I could have known what it smelled like in the truck the other day. It just seems odd that I can be inhaling the worst combination of odors, wet dogs and farts, while sitting with an oblivious smile on my face.

No comments:

Post a Comment