The Great Tortilla Incident

"Honey, what is that smell?"

"What smell? I don’t smell anything. What does it smell like?"

"Like a mix of sweaty gym socks and blue cheese. How do you not smell it?"

"I don’t know. You know I really can’t smell things too well. Something with my olfactory nerves."

"Oh my God. You and your olfactory nerves. Seriously, it’s a very strong smell. Are you cooking something?"

"The kids wanted a snack, so I put a few tortillas in the microwave."

"You mean the tortillas we bought over a week ago that should have been refrigerated, but instead have been sitting on the kitchen table during a hundred-degree Texas summer? These tortillas?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Sweet Baby Jesus! When you open the pack they smell all yeasty. And you intensified the odor by microwaving them?"

"Well, I guess that explains the smell. I’m sorry. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary."

"You were going to feed these to our kids?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I’ll throw them out and air out the kitchen. Good thing you came in when you did."

"Lucky me."

"I didn’t realize they’d been on the table that long."

"I noticed days ago. I should have thrown them out, but I assume if one opens a pack of tortillas that smell like a troll’s ass, one wouldn’t microwave them. And now here we are."

"I really can’t smell things well."

"I know. You’ve told me."

"Multiple times."

"Across several years."

"Honey, I told you, it’s my olfact—"

"Yes, yes, your olfactory nerves. Tell me, could you smell things as a child, or did this happen later in life?"

"I don’t know. It's possible it started when I was a kid. Maybe I never noticed until I was older."

"So you might have always been like this."

"Possibly."

"That explains so much."

"Like what?"

"Nothing."

"That didn’t sound like nothing."

"One of life’s great mysteries. I think the smell is clearing. From now on, bread goes in the fridge during summer."

"Agreed."

"Actually, from now on, anything remotely bread-adjacent goes in the fridge."

"What would I do without you?"

"For starters, heat up food that smells like feet and try to feed it to our children."

"Daddy, are the tortillas ready?"

"I’m sorry, sweetie. They weren’t good anymore. I can make mac and cheese instead. Sound okay?"

"Okay."

"See? Crisis averted."

"We're not calling this a crisis."

"An incident, then."

"Don’t."

"Too late."

"Fine. What’s for dinner?"

"Macaroni and cheese."

"From a box that hasn’t been sitting in the sun?"

"Correct."

"How many boxes do we have left?"

"One."

"Of course we do."

"I’ll add it to the grocery list. Butter, milk… oh."

"What?"

"This milk expired yesterday. Do you think it's still good?"

"Does it smell bad?"

"I don’t know."

"I’m sure it’s okay. Just taste it to make sure it’s not sour."

"Honey, you know I can’t tell when milk is sour. My olfactory nerves affect my taste buds, too. Can you check it?"

"Oh. My. God."