The Smells Get Worse
"Have you been to the pool?" was a question I received after my daily supermarket reconnoitre.
"No, these bags of food in my hands came from the supermarket...."
"Hmm, ok. You smell of chlorine". Well, that's better than body odour, considering I wasn't able to use soap or deodorant. Maybe Jas could smell the water I'd used in the shower earlier...!?
Jas' sense of smell had become even more freakily acute. She had a bionic nose. "Your magazine smells". My magazine smells!? Of paper, I guess? My page flicking had to be stopped in order to prevent the offending paper-smell wafting in her direction. Jas must have insight into what a dog experiences. The only way we become aware of the local bitch being on heat is when we hear the pained, faint howling of Henry the cocker spaniel downstairs howls. I felt that the sniffer dogs at the airport were at risk of losing their jobs to the local ladies in their first trimester.
Jas spent much of her time sleeping. What was the little blueberry doing? The little chap was only the size of a peanut, yet had demolished any ability of Jas to do anything. I began to get the feeling that this was all post-birth practice for me: spending the day preparing small meals during the day - in between Jas' naps - and cleaning up puke.
One night Jas dreamt of pikelets...so I had to make them.
Housework. It was all down to me, hurrah. Moving a vacuum cleaner around the house and loading a smelly dishwasher became no-go zones for the hyperemesis inflicted.
Finally It Happened
"You smell rancid". No deodorant, no soap...it was inevitable. I couldn’t go near Jas. I wasn’t really surprised; I only hoped it was a view not shared by fellow passengers on my morning commute.