Snarky's analytical brain knows that there is still ONE MORE DAY until the house is officially theirs. But her animal Veruca Salt side of her brain is stomping its little patent-leather Mary Janes-shod feet all over the sensible hardwood floors, scuffing up the works.

Snarky just had a minor retail freak out over at Penance's tart site just now and is not looking forward to the reaction of The Mister. She doubts that he was as troubled as she was by the "Old House Smell" that was wafting up from the recently vacated basement. This assumption is based mostly on the fact that she had to point it out to him.

But she could not resist scent combinations like hinoki wood & cypress, blackberry & sage, persimmons (The Mister's favorite dessert fruit) & water orchid, and the legendary Red Velvet Cake.

Because Chez Snark will not have Old House Smell. It musn't!

Snarky is contemplating some sneaky shadiness in the form of "Oh! Why, it must be a housewarming gift from some mysterious and tasteful benefactor!" Yeah. That's the ticket.

Scent-induced memories have always been important to Snarky. Her memory is uneven and mostly buried in her subconscious (she could tangent off into a rather lengthy recap of this morning's just-before-the-alarm dream that dredged up all manner of high school, college, and oddly enough, recent pop-culture bugaboos). Anything to help trigger a sense of continuity and a past is snapped up and put in the arsenal.

Snarky wants this house to be linked to anything other than the Old House Smell. She probably went a bit overboard, but she wanted to have all her ol factory bases covered.