Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

All my troubles did *not* seem so far away.

Yesterday was not the best day to be a Mrissa.

One of the symptoms I've had that I haven't been talking about much with most people is dysosmia (or possibly dysgustis*). Those of you who have fun with root words know that's approximately "bad smell (or taste)": every once in awhile, about every couple of days, something smells or more often tastes like something completely other than itself. The dog smells like saffron. Soap smells like blueberries. Cornbread tastes like almonds. Pizza tastes like cigarette butts.

It's not consistent. The dog no longer smells like saffron, and I am not going to be turned off by pizza for the rest of my life. But even when it's not unpleasant, it's extremely disturbing. As I've said here before, I get a lot of data about the world from my sense of smell. I navigate by smell enough that I bump into things more when I have a cold, because I couldn't smell where they were. People can lie to you with words, with facial expressions, even with body language if they practice really hard. It is very difficult for people to lie with their body chemistry. Most of the time I'm smelling accurately. Every once in awhile I'm not, and I'm terrified (no, this is not too strong a word) that I'm going to smell that someone I love is mad at me when they are not, or something important like that. It is small comfort that I only seem to be mis-smelling, not making up smells out of the blue, because there is never a time when I'm not smelling something, so...yah. Data suspect. Very scary. Also because I have a keener sense of smell than anyone around me when my mom isn't around, I can't always verify whether I've got something wrong, because much of the time I accurately smell things that the people I'm with can't smell at all, so they can't say, "No, you think you smell a faint whiff of lemons, but really it's coffee." This really, really, really bothers me. A lot.

So yesterday. Yesterday I woke up from the kind of nightmare that is about your normal life, which is not at all a favorite kind, so I was skittery already, and tired. And then they resurfaced the road outside.

I am grateful that they do this. Truly I am. It is a good thing to have resurfaced roads. But the smell, oh, the smell would have been bad enough if it had just stayed that smell. I would have still been smelling it, but I could have started to tune it out. Instead, about every twenty minutes it would mutate for a minute or two and smell like something else disgusting. (I will spare you the list in case anyone reading this is as scent-suggestible as I am.) And then go back to the road resurfacing stench. So I could never get it to stay in the back of my head.

Lunch was not the easiest thing in the world. The whole day, in fact, could have been better.

I have hopes that today will, in fact, be better. But uff da my God, yesterday was not the most fun I've ever had.

*I said to timprov, "Well, you know what they say, dysgustis non est," and then I was giggling too hard to get the rest of it out. When I finally did, he spent the rest of the car ride looking at me like, "I have no one but myself to blame for this woman's punning presence in my life." Which is perfectly true; it's all voluntary.
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