I really enjoy certain scents. I love the scent of a guy’s shaving cream. I have no idea why. Recently, Mom got a three-pack of Trader Joe’s body butter. She didn’t care for the wild pear and offered it to me. I adore the scent. I also like the smell of vanilla, flowers, and strawberries. I love the smell of rain after a couple weeks of not having any (yes, that does happen in Seattle). I also like the smell of fresh soil, wood chips, and pine.
There are other smells I don’t care much for. I have two cats. They produce a variety of scents that are on rare occasions strong enough to make me gag. There is a person who I occasionally encounter at work. I’m not sure what scent they use, but I can’t wait until they’ve left the building. Other people just use too much a good scent and I happen to get into the elevator right after they’ve been in it, and it feels slightly suffocating. I also don’t care for electrical smells. I blame this last one on the refrigerator that went out a couple of years ago (right before Thanksgiving, of course). I walked into the house after a long night at work and almost got knocked over by an electrical burning smell. I couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, though I narrowed it down to the kitchen, because everything seemed to be working fine. No one else could smell it due to their colds. It wasn’t until all the ice melted in the freezer and pooled all over the kitchen floor that everyone realized I had been right. We managed to get a new refrigerator before the holiday, so it all turned out well, but I’ve been a bit wary of anything that smells electrical since.