Smell You Later

I imagine our sense of smell needed to be fiercely powerful back in our cave man days. We probably needed it to sniff berries to see if the smelled like the ones Grog ate last week that killed him. We also probably needed to sniff out cave babies to know which one was ours.

I’m thankful for language and social development. It’s one of those things that separates us from our canine friends for example. I don’t need to sniff your butt as a form of greeting and to determine if we’ve me before.

That’s cool. Because that dang highly evolved sense of smell Cave Crystal needed still exists. I’d like it to power down. I don’t want to smell a lot of things I smell.

In the morning, I ruin the smell of my office via my reheated scrambled eggs. I feel compelled to announce to anyone in proximity that I’ve ruined the smell of my office with my eggs because I don’t want other super sniffers to think I just smell rotten. I typically try to repair this smell situation with a room spray. This enhances my office to encompass the smell of scrambled eggs and “sheer leather.” Not the best combo.

I know I’m not alone in the land of smell ability. The annual heater fire up that happens every fall results in numerous folks speculating that the building is burning down as all of our cave noses sense danger. We also pretty regularly think there’s a gas leak somewhere. And boy howdy, if you want to test noses put some fish in the microwave or burn some popcorn. It results in utter chaos.

Parenting gives the opportunity to watch the development of smell capacity in humans. At least it should anyways.

Before I had kids, I worked with a woman who had 2 boys. When we got ready to start our family, she said to wish for girls because boys smell awful. I thought she was a monster for her assessment. Then,…my boys hit those “say hello to a brand new you” years and I understood what she meant.

(Disclaimer: I do not wish I had girls. God knew what he was doing when he made me a boy mom. I can’t comb hair. I laugh at potty humor. I have nary a feminine bone in my body. I wouldn’t change boy mom life for anything)

A common question I’d ask in my little car during middle schooler transport was, “Did someone just shit themselves? Or is this just our baseline smell?” Luckily, it was most often flatulence related smells. But sometimes it was cleats that needed to be burned or just general “musk.”

As they grew, they wanted to impress girls which led to them noticing smells too. This led to me inventing a word “Axe-phyxiation,” being deprived oxygen due to an overuse of body spray. Forever burned in my memory is the Axe body spray ad campaign during those years; “double pits to chesty.” It “comically” outlined how to apply body spray. The kids I knew took that shit to heart and sprayed the ever loving hell out of themselves.

Thankfully they outgrew it, but still want to smell decent. I don’t think they quite have the mom smell sense though. I guess it’s a part of my super powers. Much like I’m the only one who can see that the empty box in the pantry needs to be thrown out, I’m the only one who can smell the garbage. I try to ensure that these powers of mine are used only for good.

The good for which I’ll use them this morning is to take out that trash since no one else’s nose seems to care if it’s full of Grog killing poisonous berries. And since I’m going to get my burpee stench on, I’ll also double pits to chesty something to make me smell like vanilla and body funk.

Thanks for reading!