An Ode to the Senses
100 Words for 100 Days — Days 12, 13, and 14
One Minute Dedicated to my Senses:
In this moment, I feel pain in my head. A dull ache in my occipital lobe and a terrible sinus headache in my forehead. Despite the constant pain, I feel slightly cozy in my overlarge fleece, a discount purchase from T.J Maxx. I’m sitting against the couch in the living room, my laptop on my lap. The keys feel smooth against my fingertips.
In this moment, I hear the music playing in the background. We’ve connected Spotify to our TV and I’m tapping my foot pleasantly to a Maroon 5 song. My sister and her friend are chatting in the background, as they hustle around the kitchen, the clanging of pots and pans mixing with their voices. My dog’s nails clatter on the wooden floor as he trots over to them, no doubt hoping to steal some dropped scraps.
In this moment, I see my laptop screen, pasted on the canvas of my apartment living room. The TV displaying a Maroon 5 picture. A happy doggo, tail wagging, trots around the room, hopping from white carpet to gray, wooden floor. A computer charger and a tambourine litter the couch next to me, and I smile at the drum, remembering that it was an impulse, amazon purchase. A gray saucer chair splays open next to the T.V, resting underneath a fuzzy white blanket with oranges on it. A bar table rests at the right, against the floor to ceiling window showcasing a brilliant, city skyline. A few bottles of alcohol sit elegantly next to orange, fall decorations, and a bouquet of flowers a few days old. Chocolates rest on the end of the bar table, waiting to be devoured.
In this moment, I smell a mixture of chili friend rice and honey-glossed salmon. The sweet mixes with the savory, and a strange, but not unpleasant aroma of smoked honey fills the room. I wonder how it would smell if my sinuses weren’t as clogged.
In this moment, I taste…well nothing. My throat feels dry, and I remember that I should drink water. I think of the last thing I consumed and cringe, remembering that it was a dose of DayQuil. Gross.