Good smell: Slightly burned whole-wheat toast. When I came home from the Lycée every afternoon at 5, I’d burn two pieces of toast in the grill under the burners on the stove for my goûter— my tea. That smell meant I was home and could sit in the living room, eat my toast with blackcurrant jam and watch my favorite show, "Fury",  before I went up to my room to do my homework. I still like my toast well done, and toasters being more efficient than the old grill pan, I manage to burn my two slices every single morning. If I’m feeling a little rattled, the smell of burning bread always comforts me.

Ugh. One day in Ireland when I was a child, some rats got caught in the weir by the Galway bridge and drowned. It was actually a great many rats. The water somehow receded or dried up because of the amount of rats, and the smell that hung over Galway was something I can’t describe in a family website.