P.S. I just figured out the real reason this place feels warm and snugly. Somewhere, I'm thinking it's either the kitchen or in the walls themselves, there is a distinct aroma of sugar-cookies. I smelled it the second I did a walk-thru many weeks ago and never forgot that particular happy-making scent. I hoped and hoped it would still be here (crazy, a little!!?) when we moved in but never dreamed it actually would be. Now that it is, I'm befuddled. Could it have been an incredibly potent Plug-In from the previous tenants? Perhaps they lived off of funnel cakes and cookie dough but no, she was thin and got lots of "title nine" catalogs in the mail (I only know this because we are officially "or current resident" recipients of her mail-a-logs).
In fact, after taking in one waft of this sweet goodness I even rudely inquired to the then tenant, "What is that yummy thing you are baking? Cupcakes?" To which she answered, "Ummm, nope, nothing in the oven. But we did pick up some bread from a bakery so maybe that's it?" Pretty sneaky, sister. They got away with it for a little while, with attributing that cake batter deliciousness to some French bread patisserie mais non, je ne buying it maintenant! I'm absolutely positive there is an underground tunnel leading to a small village of Keebler elves happily see-sawing on vanilla beans and teetering on vats of melted chocolate underneath this house. And there you have it. Eight days in Virginia and I'm hallucinating from Pennsylvania deprivation. Get a grip, woman. Think of the children.
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