Smells

I am a smells person.

If something smells bad, it must be thrown out, burned, washed, or Febreezed to death.

Some wise guy decided it would be funny to leave three rotting, smushed bananas in on of the elevators in my building. And it smelled like a smoothie gone horribly horribly wrong. My roommate and I tried to get another one to come, but them gosh darn elevators.  They won't come when you need them and won't go away when you want them to.

But I digress...as usual.

I was thinking about my relationship with scents as I walked into my room just now.  I have a wreath on my door made of real fir branches with a pretty red bow on it (so festive). And since I got it last Sunday, I have leaned in and smelled it every time I walk in or past my door. I'm sure my roommates think I'm crazy.

But it smells so good.

And honestly, for me, smells always remind me of my childhood.

Like the Christmas tree scent.  Whenever I breathe in the sweet, sappy scent, I'm transported back to when I was a little girl.  And how I would visit our Christmas tree in the living room when I was supposed to be getting ready for bed. And I would just look all at the ornaments and imagine what they did when I was asleep, with that scent of Christmas tickling my nose.

And peppermint? I'm back Christmas tree shopping. We just picked out of tree, and I'm unwrapping the mini candy cane I got from the little wicker bowl by the cash register.

Salt water, I'm at the beach on the Fourth of July, boogie boarding with my cousins, playing cards on the floor of the beach house, sitting on slightly damp towels, eating chips and salsa (the smell of which, incidentally, also reminds me of the beach).

I step into a car with leather seats and I'm my grandpa's car, driving to dinner with the family.

Isn't that funny? I should thank God for my nose. So many things we take for granted.