Lessons From the Kissing Booth

When I walked into my apartment after work I was assaulted by a wave of cookie smell so thick I almost felt violated. It smelled like I imagine the inside of the witch's cottage from Hansel and Gretel would have smelled--you know, when it didn't smell like roasting children. (Actually, it smelled like the pound of butter that went into Steph's cookies.)

Oh, the baking that went on here last night. Steph made a million butter cookies, and I made oatmeal raisin cookies, gingerbread moose, and fudge. We managed to manufacture Christmas, and my hands smelled like molasses all day long.

Now, of course, my kitchen is still a mess. But it smells awful good in here!