My stepmother was the biggest neat freak I’ve ever met; it was part of her ethics that anyone who was not neat, with a perfectly clean house/living space, was not a nice person. And she smoked, carrying the miasma around with her everywhere, and wasn’t able to smell it. She finally quit, and maybe then realized it. (Full disclosure: My parents smoked when I was a kid, and when they quit, I quit secondhand smoking their smoke, and so smoking has driven me nuts ever since.)
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