Thursday, March 29, 2012

Day 52 ~ One Year, One Nose

Stick matches.


Here's the thing with stick matches -- when I smell one, no matter where I am, the notion that someone has just made a boom-boom and doesn't want anyone to know about it pops into my head. I work in an old building downtown that suffers the curse of poor ventilation and badly placed toilets. They are literally in the main lobby of a very small reception area. Basically, the receptionists up front know who is in the toilet, for how long, and, once the door's opened, what they've been up to in there. Since they are so close to the loo*, and the determination has been made via the wafting scent of burning match sticks that someone did the deed, they go into immediate anti-doody smell patrol -- strongly scented candles are lit and placed upon their desks, Lysol is sprayed into the air, someone gives the offending room a squirt of orange deodorizer, and the fan is turned on high and pointed down the hall to push the odors toward the back door, where I sit.

I can honestly say that while I've rarely detected the scent of excrement at work, I have often been bombarded with the scents of burnt match stick, orange oil odor eliminator, Lysol, and gardenia Yankee Candle, usually in that order.

Though the match stick has its own scent, kind of bitter-acidic and moldy, and burnt it smells woody and acrid, it is still, for me, a heralding scent of things worse to come.




*You really should go to Wiki and look up toilets -- very informative.

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