I am flooded with sensory ancedotes, bot nothing *coleses* into coherence. The days were food in the caf was so bad I wished I didn't have to eat b/c even the brocoli was a curse to one's tongue. Or the week that the sewage pipeline broke in the middle of aheat wave. Urban sewage and garbage festering the atmosphere in summer's harsh humid heat makes the sense of smell a definate curse.
Most of the time sensory stimulus, if noticed, is pleasant, if not outright joyous. Smell and sight of cedars and roses. Sound of the waves. Sparkle of moonlight on the ocean. Gloaming on the river, city becoming a golden fey land as the world nestles into dusky pastels. Earthy rain forest scents. The laughter of of a loved one.
The rare unpleasant stimulus is merely a warning. Nose alert signaling that one should watch where they step. An ugly mess in the fridge meaning that the veggies just died.
These warnings aren't always that useful.
Rotting fish is one of the nastiest smells around, but is produced by an amine that is relativly harmless compared to cyanide, which by comparision, has the woderful scent of almonds.
I was going to make some other points, like how human stupidity is the root of all curses of scents. Talk about maybe the adaptability of people- and horse dung.
But I think I should go clean something.