OK, I'm being facetious but really, my lack of ability to smell will now come in handy on Saturday mornings.
For the uninitiated, John is treated to a "big breakfast" on Saturday morning. Such breakfasts include a poached egg on English muffin, bacon (once in a while pork sausage), home fries and baked beans. Sometimes, we have a couple of spears of asparagus. His plate includes fried tomatoes and he used to have blood pudding (which I would cook for him and kind of close my eyes while I served it). We can no longer buy the blood pudding that he likes (made by Maple Leaf) and our supply has run out. He has decided that mushrooms are almost as good (and they are certainly better for him).
So, being the dutiful wife that I am, I now find myself frying mushrooms for his Saturday breakfast.
This is where my loss of smell comes in handy. I cannot abide the smell of mushrooms frying in butter. Turns my stomach. (Truth be known, I don't even like slicing the nasty things because it means I have to touch them!)
It's almost fifteen years since I lost my sense of smell. And interestingly enough, while I can no longer smell those mushrooms frying, I can still recall not liking that odour. (No, it is not an aroma to my mind.)
As the pan sizzled this morning, all I could think was, "Thank the good Lord I can no longer smell what I'm cooking."