I Smell Dead People

Ok, I don't really smell dead people, but I smell everything else. This causes some tension in our house since most of the time I am the only one that can smell the horrendous odor that is emanating from...well, somewhere. We have many conversations that go something like this:

Me: Do you smell that?

Michael: Smell what?

Me: (Crinkling nose) That smell. It stinks!

Michael: There is no smell.

Me: Yes there is! It's coming from...over there...somewhere.

Michael: You mean that field of cows we drove by? Three days ago?

Me: Yes! Yes! That's it! Where's the candle? We need to light the candle! We need to light the candle and put it close to my nose! Hurry! Please, I can't handle the smell anymore!!

Michael: (Getting a candle and shaking his head) Do you mind telling me when, exactly, in the 20+ years we've been married you crossed over the line into certifiably insane? It was so gradual I'm not sure when it happened.

Me: (sticks tongue out and pouts while breathing in candle air)



It's very annoying this super power of smell. My poor husband can only eat fish at a restaurant, out of town, after I die. That is really sad because the man loves fish...and shellfish...and cabbage. You know, all the stinky stuff. I can smell it for days. I think it hangs around in my nose just trying to make me ill. You would think that the fish would love me since I don't want anyone around me to eat them, but apparently they want to be eaten because they insist on torturing me with their smell. I just want to say, "I wanted to save you! Why don't you go torture HIM?!"

I also have to be very careful when I am cooking to not smell the raw meat. If I smell the raw meat, then I can't eat the cooked meat. One can only survive on Golden Grahams and Frosted Mini
Wheats for so long.

On the other hand, my wonderful sense of smell could come in very handy. It's a good thing our son doesn't smoke because who wants their mother marching through the school with her head looking like an expanding red balloon, and her body shaking uncontrollably while screaming (Yes, I mean screaming, not yelling. Yelling isn't forceful enough.) "WHAT were you thinking?!"

Then again, if he ever wanted to get rid of me, and send me to prison, all he would have to do is call the police, and tell them I assaulted him with my big head that just blew up and shot pieces of brain and shards of skull at him. I mean, who would the judge believe? 1. Soft-spoken, matter-of-fact, calm young man with an actual hair cut, or 2. Crazy, out of control, screaming woman who they suspect might be auditioning for the token psycho on the "Housewives of Crazyville"? Not that I would care because my brain already blew up, so there!