Dear Febreze Air Freshener,
Over the years, you have been there for me and I want to thank you for that. When a dog laid on my jacket and coated it in dog-stink, you were there. When I neglected to take my trash out for several days despite the multiple scents that were emanating from it, you were there. When… let’s say a friend…went into the bathroom to… let’s say take care of business, you were there.
Throughout all of my life’s stinks you have been there to make sure that no one else discovered what a disgusting slob I really am. For this, I will be eternally grateful. Heck, I might even name my first son Febreze, though my wife may have something to say about that.
Up until today, I felt like you could do no wrong. Then, everything changed.
I was in the bathroom and, as often happens when one is in the bathroom, I went to use the air freshener. I picked up the can and, out of curiosity, glanced at the scent.
Sunflower & Sunshine.
Something about this struck me as odd. I had smelled sunflowers. Growing up in Kansas, this was the state flower. They were everywhere. I have smelled thousands of sunflowers in my time. This was not the issue.
Sunshine? I had never smelled sunshine. I mean, I’ve been in the sunshine and I have seen the sun. I did not, however, realize that the rays of the star my planet revolves around had a specific aroma.
I sprayed and sniffed. It smelled fresh. Honestly, it smelled spectacular. It did not, though, smell like the sun.
So, Febreze, I hate to do this, but I am going to have to call shenanigans on this whole thing. I’m beginning to think that you are taking slightly different, albeit spectacular, scents and then giving them a fancy name that makes no sense.
From now on, the scents should read as follows: Fresh, Very Fresh, Incredibly Fresh, So Fresh It Will Hurt Your Nose. That should get rid of any confusion and save you a great deal of money spent on name development.