The Curse of Cooked Onions
For dinner last night, I cut up half an onion and cooked it in a saucepan before tossing it in with the pasta. The dinner was passably good, and I went to bed almost directly after that.
All night, I kept waking up and smelling something musty. I cringed each time, moved my head slightly because I thought the smell was coming from my pillow, then went back to sleep each time. I realized this morning that my hands smelled like those onions. So I washed them in the sink, then got in the shower. I could still smell it, so I washed them again with the soap I was using to lather up my armpits. The smell was still there, so I washed the whole top half of my body, and then my hair. The hair took away a lot of the smell, but I still smelled it slightly, so I washed my hands again.
By this time, Just’In had tried to distract me by talking to me about work. I was listening, and it was interesting, but my nose had an obsession. After I got my hair, I guessed that the smell was in the snot in my nostrils, so we got out of the shower and toweled off. That toweling helped some more, as did cleaning out my nose. After I got dressed, I ate breakfast and brushed my teeth, like I normally do. It could be on my breath; after all, it was the last thing I ate. Still, I think my fingertips still smell like onions; I did handle the onion quite a bit. I think our apartment could also have that smell leftover in the air. I might light a candle to try to get rid of it.
Or my nose could just be paranoid. Every few years, I just smell slightly different to myself. It could be a small change in sweat glands and snot content. I could be on the verge on sickness; sometimes I can smell the sickness on myself. Sometimes I’ve gotten rid of it by scrubbing myself head to toe with soap. Now, I think I might just be thinking about it too much.