The power of scent

The other day Ben needed a spray bottle for something or other. He couldn't find one so he went to the store and bought a bottle that just happened to be filled with scented water that in theory is meant to be used for ironing, which, as I understand, is some sort of ancient process for removing wrinkles from clothing.

Ben used this water for some miscellaneous purpose while I was out of the house and when I came home I felt as though I was in a grandmothers house. Not either of my grandma's houses though as each of their houses had a distinctive smell at least partially derived from the high volume of cigarettes smoked in each house. Certainly not my mom's house either. I have no idea why I associate this smell with a grandmother but I do. Sam managed to get his hands on the bottle and sprayed himself and the dog with it so I was smelling it everywhere all day long. Today I can't smell anything thanks to Sam's generousity with the cold though.

But back to the smells. One day when I was walking to work I walked past a house that smelled just like I remember my mom's parent's house smelling. It was disturbing to find such a comforting and familiar smell in such an odd location. Amazing the way a smell can lauch me into an unexpected place in my past. The smell of oil based paint always reminds me of the basement of the house we grew up in where my dad used to paint signs. Vacuuming in July will sometimes yield a faint touch of evergreen from the Christmas tree and transport me back to the holiday.

Now if only I could turn off certain smells, generally related to the more unpleasant aspects of living.