Incidentally, I would like to thank all of you who are squeeing over long lists of BPAL scents and putting them behind cut tags. I'm glad you're enjoying them. I'm glad if you smell nice (mostly I have not sampled the smells of the friendslist interested in BPAL since they received their orders, so I can't say I'm glad that you smell nice). But for someone with my scent focus, the lists of twenty or so perfumes and their component scents gets to be rather...um, frightening, actually.
You know how some people will visualize the color pink if they hear or read the word "pink"? I do that with scent. And my brain is firmly aware that scents don't disappear instantaneously the way sounds or colors can. So when you're giving me a list of "sandalwood and freesia and grapefruit and oleander and roses and musk and brimstone and garlic and chives and clean baby and chocolate chip cookies and cat pee," somewhere in the long list of scents, my brain goes into overload mode and I want to hide under the desk until it goes away. (Do you want to know why I want to hide under the desk? Because I know what the desk smells like. Cherrywood and three or four kinds of paper and ink and toner and the carpet and a little bit the people who live here. I can process those things as a layered familiar scent rather than having them all try to grab my scent imagination.) So: glad you're all getting in touch with your scent-sensitive side, but I'm firmly in touch of mine, and I thank you for the cut-tags, from the bottom of my heart.
Also I have very firm notions of what Niddhogg smells like, and trust me, you don't want to.
One last "stupid brain tricks" note that has nothing to do with scent: my brain decided that the spare corner that wasn't doing anything should come up with clothes yhlee could wear and enjoy. Why yhlee? I don't know. Why clothes? I don't know. Why today? I don't know. It's a bad habit I don't consciously control, mentally composing clothing. I don't claim that it makes sense.