May I tell a short story?

Something smelled wrong as the youth group I was working with sat down to a meal served by the camp staff. I commented to some of the volunteer staff that my smell receptors, my ovarys, were offended. The laughter that followed was a subtle clue that I had perhaps mis-spoke something. One of the guys kindly said the word “olfactory” would have fit somewhat better in that context.

I havn’t been back to that part of the country since.

-Ace