Danielle* suggested that one anxiety coping mechanism is to find a calming scent and keep it close at hand.
I took this to mean go on a shopping spree and buy as much perfume as my heart desires.
Otherwise, I would just have to move to the beach (ahh, that lovely sea salt air of the Gulf of Mexico) or wire myself bouquets of roses every day (wouldn’t my work desk look nice, though?).
I hit up my favorite local variety store, Zanzbroz (not its real name) and doused myself in every scented offering in the store. I tried Bonfire (smoke, smoke, I’m going to choke), Paperback (smelled both musky and musty…I like books, but no thanks…I’ll check back when they come out with an eau de e-reader), and Thunderstorm (smelled good, actually, but the name of it could send me into a panic attack at a moment’s notice).
I bought a candle that smells like Henry David Thoreau, a bottle of kimono rose hand soap, and a notebook that didn’t smell like anything but had a nesting doll pattern on the front of it.
Still. These scents are good. BUT they just don’t do it for me. They aren’t calming, feel-good smells like Flathead’s t-shirt at the end of the day or cookies in the oven before they start to burn. (They always burn eventually. Why is that?)
If I had my choice of soothing scents, here is what the SILLYLISS line of products would look like:
I guess, in summary, I *could* just buy a bottle of baby sunscreen, put the SILLYLISS label over it to hide my bizarre fetishes, and leave it on my desk at work for stressful moments.
Or I could go back to Zanzbroz and buy up the entire Paddywax Library line of candles so that I could breathe in the serene aroma of my favorite dead authors whenever I find myself spinning a bit out of control. It’s practically kismet. If Edgar Allen Poe can’t get me through an episode, who can? I mean, besides Danielle…
*I like to think of her as my life coach, my mentor, my post-high school guidance counselor. Does she exist in real life? Is she an invisible bunny? I can’t tell you. It’s very hush-hush.