[La Vienne]Three things that stink

I am cursed with a very sensitive sense of smell. It makes me unhappy when I shouldn’t be and is probably associated with my allergies. The house in St. Pierre smells bad for three reasons that I can surmise:

1) Cars
Cars stink. You know it. I know it. It doesn’t matter if they are old or new. They stink. The problem with being in the country is that there is no way of getting around (I don’t mean to the bakery, which is, of course, walking distance; I mean to see your friends, go to nearby towns, the doctor except on Monday morning) without internal combustion. Sure, some cars smell worse than others. But all cars stink, and they should be widely restricted.

2) Sewage
You are going to think that I am making this up, but raw sewage is running out the drain in front of the house. Usually it is just liquid and remnance of toilet paper, but sometimes human shit comes out. I kid you not. Our neighbors, a very cute older couple with whom we communicate in broken French, have called the Mayor about it. (My mother is so funny; she thinks the role of the mayor in a village like this is for more important things than raw sewage draining across the road and into the river. It is part of her general notion the important men can’t be bothered with the really important things – not the way she would put it, by the way.) It’s disgusting, and I try to keep the windows in front of the house closed, but I can smell it in the morning in my bedroom if it has been raining.

3) Dogs
I like dogs. I like people who like dogs. But you can always smell the smell of a house that has had dogs in unless the house and dogs are very well cared for (not the case here). Bella and Minou are good dogs, but I don’t think either of them has had a bath in their lives. The house has stone floors, and Bella is not allowed on most of the furniture, but house smells like dog. The corners smell like dog. The kitchen smells like dog. Dog is my copilot.