It Smells Like Brown in Here
After I got home today, the UPS guy came to the door with a dolly loaded 5 feet high with large boxes addressed to Shelly. I signed for it and brought them to the staging area, known in most houses as the living room and left them for her to open when she got home.
An hour or so later, she sliced open each of the boxes and unpacked the contents: all of the scented candles from her PartyLite party. At the time, I was in the basement, sitting in my home office, returning a couple of phone calls.
That's when it crept down the stairs, around the corner and punched me in the nose. The smell of . . . brown.
That's the only word I can come up with to describe this smell. It's kind of like how if you take a half dozen really attractive colors of paint and mix them together. You just end up with a nasty shade of brown. This is the olfactory equivalent of that nasty brown.
It's magnified by the fact that my nose is overly sensitive anyway, but I'm pretty much getting an instant headache from the swirling scents of melon, sun-kissed cotton, exotic spice, and wasabi ginger. By themselves, some of them are probably OK, but together, they form an entirely unholy union that's better suited as a cologne for Lucifer himself than as a way to improve the scent of our house.
Thankfully, the candles all ship out tomorrow and the portion that's ours will be sealed up in plastic bags to be used appropriately. One scent at a time. The way the chemists who formulated the artificial odors intended.
