The Phantom Smell

Mysteries

It was driving me mad. Every time I walked into my house, I smelled something disgusting. Attempts to track it down always eluded me. How many times had I pulled clothes out of the hamper to give a good sniff? I smelled pillows, chairs, the couch, miscellaneous items like dried flowers and decorative candles, and even old books. My obsession had me investigating my husband’s laundry basket to sniff his dirty socks and shirts. Though very unpleasant, the phantom smell eluded me.

Then one day, I stopped in my tracks on entering the house, as the gross smell engulfed my nose. I’m close, I thought, I just know it. To my left, the coat rack stood like a guilty tree with its arms up in the air. I frowned, taking in the coats. One by one, I stuck my nose into their various cloth and plastic fabric. Maybe a bit musky, but certainly not revolting. I bent down to sniff the many boots tucked under the rack. A little smellier, but well within the range of outdoor footwear.

I straighten up and the smell intensified. I blinked and stared at the hats on top of the rack. No way, I thought. No way. My eyes watered as the offending hat neared my sensitive nose. Bingo! It was my husband’s freaking sun hat that he wore religiously to stew in a 104 degree hot tub. Each day, his big manly forehead sweat seeped into the hat’s beige cloth interior. No soap. No washing machine had disturbed the accumulated perspiration of months in the sizzling summer sun. No wonder the hat reeked to high heaven.

Other mysteries present themselves when living with another human, especially one who thinks he’s beyond reproach. But for now, I was happy this mystery was solved and I could breath easier. I couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.

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