In our last village we had an absolutely lovely couple next door. The wife smoked like a chimney but we were great friends and often went out together shopping and to the gym etc. She came round for coffee and after she'd left, our house stank. The sofa stank. I could smell her everywhere. Round hers, the air was fetid with cigarette smoke.

But strangely, she suddenly stopped smoking. I mean, just stopped. She didn't use patches (I don't think they existed then) and for years afterwards she never touched tobacco, much to my relief.

She was the most houseproud, clean woman I've ever known. She constantly cleaned and polished her bungalow to a very high standard.
One day, she asked me to be truthful and tell her if her house had smelt of cigarettes when she used to smoke. I smiled and said, "Not half!"
She admitted that her sense of smell had now returned, and she'd had to send every item of clothing she owned to the dry cleaners to get rid of the stench. And wash all her curtains. And shampoo her carpets.
The place was then lovely and fresh, and I could breathe in her company.

She died some years ago. I hope God has let her wash His curtains and polish heaven. She'd do an excellent job, and enjoy it too!