The Smells of Summer

This weekend I officially began the war (or at least a major frontal assault) on an evil force that has taken a stronghold in my home. It is one I've been aware of for some time. It has appeared in various forms through the years, and periodically I have taken major offensives toward it. But this time it's no holds barred. I am ready to fight.

I am at war with stink.

Now stink is a word with a lot of definitions, and its usage has become quite diverse. So in the interest of clarity, let's make sure we're clear what this war is about.

"Stink" can be used to describe things we don't like, as in "I can't have a second Dove bar, that stinks." Stink can be used effectively, albeit a bit awkwardly and redundantly, in a sentence like, "They are filthy rich and literally stink with money."

In my case, in my life, the stink I am waging war agaist is the dictionary definition as in "stink (stingk): 1. To emit a strong foul odor."

"Strong" and "foul" are two words that add up to "enemy" in my book. And in the case of my enemy, it is persistent, and fairly aggressive, particularly when it's got hot, humid weather on its side.

So as June 21 marked the start of summer and the longest day of the year came and went, I decided it was time to attack, or at least get serious about this battle I need to wage. The worst part is that I'm fighting this alone. The enemy has allies. And they deny their alliance. They also are prone to taunting and mimic. They wage psychological warfare, telling me "it's all in your head," and "your nose is way too sensitive."

But I know it's not me. There is stink among us. I've tried to hide it. I've covered it up. I've used "Powder Fresh" sprays that smell like old people, and even specially formulated sprays for killing bacteria and odor. But it seems the more I try to cover it up, the more it stinks.

A major warlord for the opposition took up residence in "my space" a year ago. I'm not talking about the internet "my space." This is the real world. MY SPACE, which is a 30 foot long, 15 fooot wide breezeway/sunroom where my laundry room and office reside. (Now any work at home person with a family understands the ingenuity of the office/laundry combo...and you can obviously understand my desire to protect it.)


The enemy moved in over a year ago. I didn't give it much thought. But through the months it has become ever-present and based on epirical evidence, it's not going anywhere.

So this weekend on a 90 degree day when the air conditioner in the breezeway had been off all day, with the enemy lounging comfortably on the floor, I walked in and was nearly knocked back with a direct attack. Unable to even scream because of the air quality, I called an immediate summit.

My demands were clear, and to my surprise, the "evil" alliance agreed to my demands quickly and without complaint.

I've reclaimed my space. The first steps are done. The enemy is lying empty a few yards away and I can't smell it. It's contents -- all six jerseys and six sweater socks and under armor and under garments, all clean and fresh, folded and fluffed on the laundry table. The equipment -- padded shorts, shoulder pads, elbow pads, knee pads, gloves and skates are lying somewhat dejected in a pile. They are prisoners of war, in need of some rehab before I'll release them and call this battle done.



Yes, this weekend I started and won a battle against stink. I'm not naive enough to think the war is over or that we'll always have peace. That equipment will go back in that bag, as will the folded fluffy jerseys and socks. The bag will go to the rink and the kid will wear the contents, and when he's done he will put it all back in the bag to comingle and consort, and the battle will begin again. Yes, I know, this enemy is not going away. It will be back. Soon.



But at least for a few days -- maybe even a few weeks here between camps and practices and seasons, I'm taking back My Space. For a few short days, I'm going to enjoy the smells of summer. A little. I still have to figure out how to get the smell out of my car...