I suddenly appreciate the ability of my house to drive scents from far flung corners directly to my office. This morning a mix of hickory and apple wood smoked bacon crossed that divide and snaked down the hallway and slithered under my door to stop me mid paragraph. My head swiveled almost unconsciously to the right and I stood, leaving a character's words hanging. Through the door, down the hallway, a series of turns and past my daughter playing a game on my wife's iPhone.

And there it was. ...