Bad Thing about Having a Good Sense

Speaking of Sienna's inclination for pampering yesterday, I decided that I need some pampering myself. So I booked an appointment and went in for a massage session. It was excellent as usual. No need for more words there.

Waking up a couple of times last night and this morning as well, I was bothered by some kind of smell. At last, I realized it was from the lotion the massage therapiest used on my back and shoulders. I ended up spending twice the time showering this morning to rid of the annoying smell. I shouldn't have agreed to have the lotion rubbed on my body to begin with.

Among my 5 senses (I don't have none of the 6th sense some people claim to have), my best is the smell. I could smell from miles away like a police dog. When I was little, my parents had to stop me from picking up anything and everything and getting it to my nose for judgement. Just a few days ago, I was discussing a project at the office. I stook there and pointed to a pen on L's desk, "whew, that thing smells awful..." L stuck the pen to her nose, again and again. After three times of deep inhaling, her face showed a sudden sign of disgust, "Oh, yea, disgusting..."

My good smelling sense could sometimes spoil an otherwise good exprience like last night. I have learnt to cope with my smell sensitivity. Usually, when I am not certain, the best smell is with no smell at all.