I've often joked that I have no sense of smell. I mean this in the non-literal, I have allergies at least three seasons of the year sort of way, but still, my sense of smell is generally bad enough that the idea of anosmia doesn't sound nearly as horrifying to me as perhaps it did to others. It was interesting that Ackerman described smell as a sort of constant thing that you cannot stop, because for me, it doesn't feel that way at all.
The smells I do actually sense are usually the strongest, which in general has not left a favorable impression of the sense. When I think of strong scents I tend to think of skunks (I didn't realize the badness of which was debatable), perfume (not a fan), and my dog farting (with a frequency that is honestly impressive).
Probably, I don't give my sense of smell enough credit. The smell of a campfire brings me back to camping as a child. The smell of lavender reminds me of an acquaintance in high school who went around with a bottle of it before a major exam, spraying it on people's wrists and claiming it was calming. I wouldn't say it
was particularly calming, at least not for me, but it was definitely kind. It was interesting to see what Ackerman had to say about smells and memory, because for me, it seems that while the bad scents are much more general, the good ones tend to have memories attached. When I smell a skunk, I don't remember every or any other time that I've smelled a skunk, but lavender still reminds me of the sense of camaraderie among a group of high school kids certain they were all about to fail an exam.
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