What I sniffed today: Cat fur, cat litter, cat shit, stale laundry, lemon verbena soap, mint

toothpaste, unsweetened cocoa, sweetened condensed milk, talapia and snap peas, bananas, wet dirt. What I heard today: tapping of MacBook keys, toilet flushings, Lady Gaga, Nina Simone, refrigerator whirring, water pouring, kettle whistling, keys rattling, cats snoring, cats chewing, more Lady Gaga, more Nina Simone, iPhone alarm reminding me about movie at Roxie, awful movie I watched at home instead, “After.Life,” pages of The Madonnas of Echo Park turning, mattress creaking, slippers shuffling, pillows being punched. Presented in honor of Ira Gershwin’s birthday, he who once wrote in his diary, "Sniffed in a day: Onions, whiskey, garbage, fur and camphor balls, fountain pen ink, fresh newspapers. Heard in a day: An elevator's purr, telephone's ring, telephone's buzz, a baby's moans, a shout of delight, a screech from a 'flat wheel,' hoarse honks, a hoarse voice, a tinkle, a match scratch on sandpaper, a deep resounding boom of dynamiting in the impending subway, iron hooks on the gutter." Even if it seems you did nothing today, surely, you at least smelled something, saw something, heard something, touched something, tasted something. What a rich life!