Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Pull My Weekend
This was one weekend I really kept my nose open. Sometimes it misled me and sometimes I misled it, but me and my nares had a good time together for a couple of days there. Here are some of my favorite adventures we shared with each other:
SMELLS BAD, IS BAD: First I find the fresh load of cat crap on the hardwood floor of the hallway next to my shoes. I sweep that up quickly enough but a lingering afternote wafts on the morning air… A pair of jeans lies tossed in among my shoes on the floor of my closet. I pick up the pants; they feel vaguely damp. I sniff them; they seem soiled. My bathrobe (heavy plush terrycloth) hangs on a hook that leaves it just touching the floor of the closet near where the pants had been; its hem reeks of urea. My Japanese silk dressing gown hangs next to the robe; with defeated confidence I sniff it too. It, too, has been wicking up cat pee.
Once I moved all my shoes out of the way I found only one pair that had really taken the brunt of the damage: a pair of leather sandals I’d gotten five years ago for $20 and that had served me nobly and well, at home and away - some of the best damn shoes I’ve ever owned. They were drenched with the Rufus-urine. I had to move them to the front stoop to dry out and I’m now debating whether to get them professionally cleaned, or just to toss them and get new ones. I’d hate to get rid of them; they have plenty of wear left - but if I ever wore them again they’ll probably make my feet smell really bad. I guess this is goodbye.
The worst part of all this is that it’s so totally my own fault that this happened. I changed the catbox and set it up so the dog couldn’t rummage around inside it - but then, neither could the cat, either. I had blocked her out of her own crapper. She’d even tried to tell me, in her yowling way, that there was a problem; I didn’t understand her. So she went where she was able, and I understand her choice. I know I’ve learned my lesson. And on the plus side, the nice leather walking shoes I was wearing when I stepped in that huge mound of rancid dog pudding on the greenbelt last week finally dried out enough for me to clean them up and wash them off. When the only effective way to clean your shoes is with a toilet brush, you know you’ve stepped in something really profound.
SMELLS BAD, IS GOOD: The first and third places we visited were big franchises that were crammed with dozens and dozens of barely different, euphemistically-named models: “Oh, have you tried the Fillmore Pillowtop Ultra-Firm? It had me flat on my back and groaning with pleasure....” The prices for everything nice were way too high, and the stuff in our range was bunk. I kind of made us go to Place 2 out of perverse masochism; it’s right there at my morning bus stop and I have peeked in its dim windows countless times, holding the shop in some slight disdain as too convenient, small and shoddy to be worth anything. I actually always thought of it as sort of a dump, and that made me feel sorry for it, so I forced us to go there to palliate my conflicted feelings. When we walked in, a taint of old smoke, biology and plastic reached my nose. The salesman was the source of two of these - obviously a heavy smoker (based on the condition of his teeth), and authentically anglo-celtic; he was also affable, informative, respectful and helpful; his stock of a dozen or so models had some decent options in our price range; he’s throwing in setup, removal, and - since we’re bumping up a size - a frame. The weird stinky little mattress shop sold us a big new Dignitary Plush set that will be delivered on Friday so we get a chane to buy some linens that will fit it. I like our old varnished-pine queen sleighbed, one of the first pieces of furniture we got upon moving to SF, but it’s time to take the next step into a world of supine luxury and comfort. King me.
SMELLS GOOD, IS BAD: I can see it everywhere now - the yellow powder. We got some rain, and now the curbs and gutters are painted with it. Every car on the street is liberally daubed with it and the limpid surfaces of the lakes in the park are festooned with curling ribbons of it, floating in impossibly complex patterns: the acacia trees are back in bloom. I love these trees; they smell good in the springtime, all tangy sap and a soft arboreal scent, the pollen barely floral - more balmy, more bracing than typical flowers. Regardless, I’m allergic to it. So is Kel, and now people are coming down with head colds and sinus junk everywhere I turn. A rose by any other name will still require me to use nasacort regularly. Springtime: Season of snot. (And yes, spring is starting in SF. That’s just one more reason we live here.)
SMELLS GOOD, IS GOOD: Our superbowl (tm) experience was once again enjoyed at the home of our friends Al and Jackie (Jackie was part of the women’s football game I mentioned in the prior post, and Al went to college with us). Jackie made a wonderful chili, brightly spicy with loads of ground meats and tomatoes and veggies, all in a rich tangy broth that begged to be soaked up and slurped down. As fate had it, we’d brought a double bag of freshly cooked handmade potato chips from Buffalo Burger, and not those lame “fish-n-chips” type chips, but more like kettle chips, only fresher and thicker, and they soaked up the broth and wrapped around the chili chunks, and having them all in the same bowl together was a deeply fulfilling experience. Twice. And then once again after that. It therefore rather surprises me that I also somehow found room for so much of Kel’s chocolate banana cake (o yeah) and more Marlborough toffee, both of which we’d made Saturday night and Sunday morning. It all smelled good enough when we were eating it, but what really sticks in my mind is how good it smelled in our kitchen when we were baking the cake and boiling the toffee and melting all that chocolate.... it smelled so mouthwateringly welcoming that it basically evened me out from all the cat pee and such that I’d had to deal with before in my closet. Olfactory karma. And the best part of all is, this time it’s the good smells I really remember.
