However, the perfume log is: None (Wednesday), and none (Thursday), and also none (Friday) and for a change, none (Saturday). I might have worn something today, to go along with the basking, but it's Scentless Saturday.
So, back to my burbling about writing dry spots, it appears that the grumpy moods that go contrary to creative expression also go contrary to the wearing of perfume. I find this puzzling--the perfume aspect, I mean. The fact that I don't write when I'm grumpy isn't puzzling. Writing involves being open to my thoughts and feelings, and when my thoughts and feelings are cranky and worried, I prefer to hide from them and drink milk.
I would like to break this habit, because for all I know, maybe I'd do my best stuff while cranky. Certainly some of my favorite fiction scraps from The Other Blog (like this one or this one or this one) tend to be on the bitter side. And, yes, I do see the other rather obvious theme between those three scraps, but, well, that's a subject for another post.
But why don't I wear perfume when I'm grumpy? Perfume should bring pleasure. I certainly gulp milk and eat junk and watch television and read easy-to-chew and amusing books at those times, so shouldn't I also pursue perfumey pleasure? But aside from scented baths, I don't.
I find myself remembering that somebody (Who? I forget.) said that scent is a direct path to memory. Does scent make a person open to their thoughts and feelings, whether they like it or not? My bubble bath scents are old friends with well-established associations, but my perfumes always have an aspect of the unpredictable in them--placidly pleasant perfumes don't do anything for me. Maybe when I'm in those bad moods, I don't want to risk whatever a good perfume might dredge up out of my mind.
It's a thought.
Image: By Matt Reingold. Wikimedia Commons.