I don't like weekends. You can tell I'm no Tillie the toiler looking for a two-day respite. But, even when I numbered among the Tillies, Sunday was always my most unfavorite day of the week.
First of all, I hate when things stop! I like the continuity of my news programs with my favorite news anchors, and on Sundays, they aren't operating. Besides their disappearance, news itself seems to stop. Nothing ever happens on Sunday. Politicians and other unsavories always drop their scandals on Fridays, hoping they'll fall into the yawning maw of the weekend blackout - and they usually do.
To make the day even worse, all I have to do is catch a 30-second sound of a ballgame in progress and I want to hide under a bed and suck my thumb. Ballgames depress me, mightily. They bring back childhood memories of wanting to DO something FUN, but being thwarted by my daddy's Dodgers.
The mind with its associated senses is a memory trap...often a useful gadget, but sometimes a cache of unwanted feelings.
My first drink, at age 16, was "rye and ginger." Yuck. I was so sick I have never been able to tolerate even the smell of rye whisky, and it's taken decades to re-establish friendly relations with gingerale.
Another drink odor that brings back good memories is the combination of scotch and lemon peel. At 21, I had graduated to a more sophisticated libation. J&B with a twist evokes fun weekend plan-making under the clock at the Biltmore.
Schools, especially the cafeterias, are neutral on the hate meter. But it amazes me that they all possess the same combination of scents. You can be blindfolded and dropped into any public school in the country and I guarantee, if you ever attended one, you'll know what kind of building you're in.
And then there are other neutral associations that are just fun.
Don't ask me how I know this, but almost any dog's footpad smells just like Fritos®. Check it out, Lay people.