Do You Smell Dog Shit?

I interviewed a man for a story yesterday in P-B. As I walked to the small cafe that we were meeting at, I nearly slipped and fell. I had stepped in a pile of dog shit that some dude, probably walking his pit bull, had walked away from. Maybe he was busy tweeting about his dog shitting on the sidewalk, or, composing his next Facebook post. Who knows?

So there I stood, shoes covered in shit, late for my interview. I did my best to rub it off. I shuffled my feet in a small patch of dirt before entering the cafe.

The interview lasted for over an hour. All I can think about was if he could smell the shit on my shoes. I obviously couldn't. I wouldn't know if it was smothered on my face.

'Should I ask him if he smelled anything foul?' I thought as he talked. 'No, because then I would have to explain,' I responded.

The conversation repeated in my head during the entire interview.

Good thing he was a talker.

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.