My head is packed, but not with ideas.

What peanut butter tastes like without one’s sense of smell:


What everything else tastes like:


Come on--everything? What about an orange? A smoothie? Hot and sour soup? Or here, have some sushi with extra wasabi.

Spackle, spackle, spackly liquid, slightly salty spackle.

Worst thing about losing sense of smell (hereafter referred to as “smellability”):

Unable to indulge in morning ritual of smelling Charlie’s popcorn-scented paws.

Greatest thing EVER about losing smellability, according to Charlie:

See above.

Best thing about losing smellability:

Able to use the bathroom immediately after husband has befouled it.

Items used to confirm loss of smellability:

Coffee, Windex, dog’s paws, air freshener, armpits, dog’s paws, top of preschooler’s head, dog’s paws, dog’s paws.

What it feels like to not be able to smell anything:


“Lurh”? That’s the best you can do, Ms. Fancy Wordsmith?

It’s my experience of not being able to smell. You wouldn’t understand.

Just don’t claim that’s onomatopoeia, because it is so not onomatopoeia.

I would never claim such a thing.

The only thing going on inside brain, which was once jam-packed with self-conscious musings, lyrics to Gilbert O'Sullivan's "Alone Again, Naturally," and revenge fantasies involving eighth grade bully:


That’s what I thought.

Shut up. I'm sick.

There, there. Here’s some spackle for you.