I’ve determined that I have a dog’s nose. I do.
My nose is so sensitive, there are times I can’t sleep because of the smells I smell.
Like last night. We moved our love seat into the house. FINALLY. It had been stored in a barn for a year.
I cleaned it but after I sat down, all I could think about was chickens and cows mooing and clucking in the living room. (Side note: there are no chicken and cows in the barn but there used to be – like 30 years ago).
And when I walked out to my husband’s studio I asked him, “You can smell the barn on me, right? Smell my shirt.” He couldn’t detect a thing. I hardly slept last night with that smell permeating through our house.
Actually, other people know about my preternatural nose.
When I worked at a law office in Florida, the tech guy was notified one day that staff in a particular department smelled electrical burning. He walked through, couldn’t detect any problem, so he said, “Let’s double check… ALLISON!!!“ I sniffed and I sniffed and didn’t discover a thing. He said, “Well, if Allison doesn’t smell it, it isn’t there,” and he left the room.
Most days I can handle it. But for some reason today meine Nase is taking over and I am going berserk! Only a clothes pin can save me now.
On my epitaph it could read:
Allison J. Graber
She Smelled Like a Dog
1984 – 2XXX
