It makes sense

 

When I was young I liked reading all the super heroes stories in magazines. Superman, Batman and Robin, The Hulk, and all the others. My favourite was Spider Man. He was bitten by a spider and developed super powers of flying through the air making spiders web everywhere. No doubt followed by Super Clean, a hero with a vacuum cleaner and brush, clearing the cobwebs left behind.

As a child I was bitten by our small dog Santa. We called him that because when we first got him he left us little presents everywhere. It was not much of a bite. Just a nip really. But I was certain I developed special powers like Spider Man.

From that day, I was convinced I had a heightened sense of smell. I could smell in the dark and round corners. A gift which I have retained to this day.

I could tell people by their smells. My grandma for instance always smelled of lavender. Why do old people have that distinguished smell of plants or herbs? My other grandma smelled of pot-pourri whereas her sister, Aunt Gertrude from Australia, smelled of eucalyptus. At the time I did not know what eucalyptus was, but Mom told me it's a plant grown in Australia. Apparently, Aunt Gertrude used oil of eucalyptus in cough drops and sweets. She gave me one once. It tasted awful and made me cry ... inwardly of course. Because real heroes don't cry.

I also had an uncle who wore a black suit that smelled of moth balls. I did not know that moths had such large balls; but Mom explained it was a chemical disinfectant to keep moths away from clothes. My uncle only wore that suit at weddings and funerals. The rest of the time he smelled of whisky. Dad told me it was his after-shave lotion. Mom added that it was called Single Malt distilled in Scotland.

In church we had an old confessional made of wood. It was a wooden booth where the priest sat and the penitents would kneel on either side and confess through a small window. I remember once in Confession, as I knelt in the confessional I told the priest that I had hidden my grandma's motorcycle helmet behind the couch. She did not ride a motorcycle, she just wore the helmet as a precaution in case she got mugged ... so she said. 

Anyway, the priest told me to keep my voice down because he could smell my grandma kneeling on the other side of the confessional. He did not tell me which grandma it was, the lavender one or the pot-pourri one.

I was very proud as a child of my super powered smelling abilities. It compensated for being bitten by Santa.

I'm still proud of the power of super smell. I can tell as soon as I enter the house that my wife has cremated another dinner. I wish we still had some of Aunt Gertrude's eucalyptus oil.