I remember reading somewhere that every nanosecond after we encounter an odor, our ability to detect it decreases fifty percent, so that a bothersome smell can soon go unnoticed. I think I read it in my notes from a Principles of Physiology class, so to approximate the accuracy of that statement multiply it by however much I was paying attention in class that day. (Aside to my tuition-paying parents – 100. Full. Whatever the maximum amount of the ‘attention scale’ is. Always.) Theoretically, then, any unpleasant odors should be undetectable before they become annoying. But I’ve noticed that there is a growing epidemic in our country. No, an epidemic besides ring tones and Anna Nicole Smith. The epidemic I’m referring to is The Stink, and it’s everywhere. You’re not alone, Stinky McSmellyhouse. Well, maybe you are- because you smell. But you’re not alone in your problem is what I’m saying. Luckily, the arsenal of anti-stink paraphernalia grows everyday.
Perhaps the most common weapon is the aerosol spray. Simply spray a graceful arc of atomized chemicals through your problem room in the manner of a rhythmic gymnast with a ribbon dancer and voila! For days, everything will taste like a metallic spring waterfall. And by the time the spray wears off, the original offending smell will seem so much better in comparison, you’ll welcome it back into your sinus cavities. Unfortunately, these sprays usually contain CFCs which travel into the atmosphere and up north to club baby seals. Or something like that. So there is a downside.
Does that sounds like too much work? Is the thought of all that arm motion making your biceps ache? Or perhaps raising your arm in the air would only exacerbate the problem. If that’s the case, I’d suggest some deodorant and then maybe an air freshener that attaches to the wall, so you don’t have to bear its burden while freshening your space. According to the commercial, surely a non-biased source, you’re just two presses away from an odorless room. A faulty install could give you a scented, plume-shaped stain on your wall, but the people on the commercial sure seem to like it. Admittedly, I’m taking their word for how well it works. Smell-o-vision doesn’t exist… yet.
For those of you underwhelmed by the prospect of taking an active role in the Battle of the Stink, don’t worry. There’s the old passive aggressive standby of the candle, which offers so many options for scents that I may have permanently damaged my olfactory receptors when I worked in the candle room at Hallmark. The candle room was ostensibly open to the rest of the store but effectively separated by an unseen wall of stink. The unholy combinations were worse than anything you’d want to cover, and the horrors my nose endured in the name of minimum wage may have killed a lesser person. From ‘Storm Watch,’ which tried to purport that an impending lightning storm smells like dryer sheets, to ‘Green Grass,’ which smells like burning lawn clippings on your kitchen counter… but that’s enough Hallmark bitchery from me. Candles are great stink-maskers, but if your problem is such that this steady stream of scent is a necessity, perhaps your needs would be better served by something that doesn’t include an open flame. Never fear… read on.
A popular option is the plug-in variety of de-stinkers. Simply plug one in and you’re on your way to a life less smelly, all thanks to the miracle of electricity. And if you’re worried about that air freshener stealing your precious outlet, calm down. They come in so many configurations that you’ll be able to find one that will allow you to continue your stinky life unhindered. They come with an extra outlet, with a fan, with a night light, with an outlet and a fan, with an outlet and a light, with or without an automatic transmission. You could use a different kind each day for years without repeating. Okay, maybe not years. Months, then. At least weeks. And hey, if you’ve got enough time to deconstruct my hyperbole, maybe you could better spend that time finding out why your house smells so bad in the first place, jerk. Moving on.
“But Lisa!” you whine. “I have stink in a room with no outlets. What am I gonna do!? HELP!” First off, dial down the desperation there, buddy. Glade was built on the frantic sniveling of whiners like you (this may not be true). And secondly, why are you whining to me? It’s not like I can do anything about it. For now. (And the second I can do something about it, I’m escalating that can’t to a won’t. Take that, little people.) But it just so happens that the air freshener industry has heard your pathetic little cry. Behold, the portable air freshening fan. Put it anywhere, and it will spin its little battery-operated heart out, ensuring you a steady stream of fresh air, 2 cubic centimeters at a time for your olfactory enjoyment.
Recent additions to the freshening family is the Whisp, which contains a microchip to tell it to regularly belch visible puffs of white scent-smoke. I just hope it smells better than the liquid smoke used in model trains, because that stuff reeks. Someone I knew had one. No, not me. I am a dork in many different ways, but model trains are not in my repertoire of geekery. A plus side of these is they seem to be great entertainment, judging by the reactions of the (paid) people (acting) in the commercials. So if, say, you forget how to read and the cable goes out and all your board games are destroyed in a fire, you can happily sit around counting the puffs, making sure they all smell the same, or holy crap just TALK to each other already.
If electricity and batteries confuse you, which isn’t surprising considering the challenge personal hygiene and basic housekeeping seem to pose, listen up. Gel fresheners are available right at your fingertips, and have few to no moving parts. Some are pretty, with a sparkling crystal disc of colored gel, while other gels are covered by conical plastic sheaths. Ever wonder why that is? I did. Upon prying the cover off of one, I found it’s because depending on the scent, the hidden gel looks like a quavering tower of snot. Seriously. And those covers don’t snap back on too easily, so you’re left with cracked plastic shards and a shrinking phallus of phlegm until it doesn’t stink anymore and you can justify throwing it away. Feel free to learn from my mistakes here. Seriously.
If all these de-stinking promises sound good to you, but they don’t cost nearly as much as you’d like to spend, there is a solution. The ionizer operates on the premise that air smells bad because it hasn’t been filtered through the three easy payments of an expensive, unnecessary machine. Perfect for air snobs everywhere. So as you prance around your fancy house with your nose in the air, rest assured that anything you suck in through that schnoz will have blown past some metal plates and is now superior to other air.
Now that the stench of your living space isn’t interfering with your mental processes, let’s move on to the important issue: What exactly are you doing to create such a stench? Because if you can’t be in a room without it being artificially de-stunk, maybe you’re asking yourself the wrong questions. Instead of “Hmmm, am I in a kiwi-strawberry or a vanilla mist type of mood?” perhaps you should give thought to “Hey, has anyone seen the cat recently, because it smells like something is decomposing in a heat register.” It’s fun to throw money at the symptoms, but for God’s sake, take a shower or something- we’ve got to start eliminating possible sources.
Smell you guys later... or will I?
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