Dogs smell in technicolor

I find that my senses are disturbingly sharp this afternoon. Normally I don't have much of a sense of smell, but I've been plagued by heightened appreciation for odor today. I went into Douglas Perfumes trying to find a new scent (an annual ritual of sorts), and I think I inadvertently offended the poor saleslady by systematically rejecting each of her favorite perfumes. "Too powdery, too sweet, too -whoa!- alcohol..." In a feeble gesture of courtesy, I asked her to spray each wrist with a different perfume so that I could see how they wore on my skin. Since then, I think I'm going crazy.

The women's bathroom in the Penn Bookstore smells like salt water. On the plus side, its soap smells nice. I frantically tried to replace the scent on my right wrist with the handsoap. The paper towels didn't smell too bad in comparison to my wrist either...

I cannot focus on my homework, and I'm supposed to send out rough drafts of 3 chapters tomorrow. I've got the doctoral paralysis again, and I find my mind wandering. No wonder every other sense is on overdrive -- "I can't work, the world is too damn noisy! the light just changed! there is an acrid smell!" Every time I try reading my own work the words swim. Good thing I can touch-type.

Naturally, my reading difficulties will fade late Friday night, at 12:01 precisely, when I pick up the new Harry Potter. My copy is on reserve, and I am ready. I'm supposed to work both Friday night and Saturday day, which means I will have to finish the book while everyone else is sleeping. I don't want anyone to tell me how it ends before I've finished it. Sometimes pleasure reading is tough, when you have to finish books in one sitting. Still, I feel like a kid at Christmas.