It isn’t the first time I’ve walked into the house and been not just confronted, but almost knocked backwards by the odour that permeated my nostrils.
By permeated, I mean clawed its way up my nose, permeated any and all membranes housed within my skull, and physically ravaged my brain.
I’m not talking about the standard pubescent smell; a unique offering that only those of teenage persuasion can emit from their bodies. Not even, as I’m led to beleive, the distinct smell that teenages of the male persuasion emanate.
(I’m fairly sure girls have a smell, too, I just don’t know if it’s the same, slighly differnet, better or worse.)
The teenage boy (and probably girl) smells fall into two categories; that of the shower-dodger, categorised by an overpowering body odour; the second is the well-showered, and whom are surrounded by fumes of a gag-inducing nature. I’m blessed with one of each, which I’m thinking is potentially better than two of the one kind.
Whilst they don’t technically cancel each other out, at least I can alternate which area of the house I stand in, in order to get some nasal respite.
These are not the smells I’m referring to, however.
No, the first time I was floored as I waked into the house was the smell of what I could only reference as vomit-with-attempt-to-mask-smell-with-Lynx-bodyspray.
Just take a moment to really appreciate what that moment was like, if you will?
I was half right. The attempt to mask smell component was a correct. The vomit smell?
“Oh, yeah. That’s the pumpkin soup I made in food tech four weeks ago. I brought it home.”
Ah, well that explains that.
It seems I have passed on my Domestic Godless capabilities onto my children. This is evidenced in an incident I encountered last night.
My immediate thought when I walked in the door … nay, as I approached the door, was “What is that smell?!”
It was a query I made several times upon my Just Home From Work travels; you know, shoes and jacket off, up the stairs, unpack bag, wander through kitchen, etc etc, before I got an answer.
The smell was less nasty than the four-week-old-pumpkin-soup-Lynx-bodyspray mix, but no less overpowering.
“Oh, yeah. You know that thing with the smelly stuff and the sticks coming out of it in my bathroom? I knocked it over, picked it up, moved it, and knocked it over again, onto the floor. I tried to clean it up using the steam mop. That just seemed to diffuse the smell.”
Admittedly, it’s not the first answer that came to my own mind. But it’s impressive.
Now our whole house smells of white jasmine, or pear rose, or peach rabbit or whatever the smell was. He diffused it well.
Steam will do that.