From the first day we walked through this house, I thought it smelled funny. I remember asking Chris and our realtor, at the time, “Does it smell weird to you?” — everyone stopped, sniffed, and shook their heads that “no, they didn’t smell anything.” To be fair, I do have one of those noses. If the stove wasn’t shut off all the way, or there is a lemon rotting in the basket, a cookie left in a bunk that has started to grow something green, I can sniff it out and find the source within five minutes of walking through the door. And now, of course, we have too many cats, so that presents a daily olfactory challenge, but underneath it all, there has always been a scent here in this house that just bugs the bejesus out of me.
Sometimes I get paranoid, and I think it’s some chemical the house is leaching, or a small leak in the gas line, but it’s not quite that - the smell is hard to pin down, and I’m pretty good at pinning. Other times when I’m in the shower, I’ll catch it and think, “It must be the water!” I’ll cup some water in my hands and inhale, but then it’s gone. I suppose on that first day, I should have known that the way the house smelled would be a deal breaker. Naive, I figured once I moved in, our family smell — one that a friend told me once was “so relaxing” from the Dr. Bronner’s lavender soap, palo santo sticks, juniper, and patchouli oils (such hippies) would take over, but that hasn’t been the case.
We notice the way people smell when we meet them for the first time, and it matters. Sometimes I’ll give someone new a hug, and get a headache immediately, and think, “Well, they seemed nice, but obviously it’ll never work out.” If you use fabric softener, we can’t be friends — I’m sorry, that’s just a fact. On the flip side, though, when you love someone, and I’m talking about the it’s meant to be kind of love. Well, then, it doesn’t really matter if they’re smelly. Or rather, their version of smelly seems to align deep in your brain with that area that’s hardwired for animalistic delight (the same spot, I suppose, that makes our dog rub her head in dead worms). When it’s a match, then it doesn’t matter, it’s alright, the smell isn’t a bother at all. Not in the beginning anyway. You’ll giggle and sniff their armpits, bury your nose in their sweaty neck, or if you’re in the early throws of love, you’ll sleep with the T-shirt they just wore all day. But if from the get-go, you can’t stand the way they smell, it’ll just never work out. Just like this house. It just wasn’t meant to be, and now I know what to look for, what to pay attention to. The deciding factor won’t be counter space versus the size of the dining room; It will come down to something much simpler —breathability. I think that’s where love and home come from — a place where you can take deep breaths without feeling nervous that you’re being poisoned while you sleep. We’re selling the house and moving closer to St. Paul this year. When we start going to open houses, hopefully no one will notice me walking through rooms, inhaling, turning on the showers to sneak a sniff.
Oh I love this one. I too, have one of those noses. lol. And have always loved how YOU smell. 😜😘
But it's so cute! Dang. You never found out what smells? It's just... the house?