Why you should bake tons of biscuits before your home inspection

“Goodbye, Jackson” Mother rubs my arm as I push my tiny body out of the car, “Have fun at Grandma’s!”. I can already smell something delicious inside from the driveway. Grandma has been baking.

There she was, as per usual waiting for me outside on the veranda nursing her perpetual cup of tea. I trundle up the path. What joys will there be today? What games will Grandma and I play together? What is this delicious scent?

She eases herself slowly out of her seat, and opens her arms for a hug. I clutch her like a baby bat clutches its mother, and she pats my back, asking me questions I can barely hear because now I am lost in the intoxicating scents of the lavender perfume she wears almost religiously, the flowers that surround us– lovingly grown and tended to – and the baked delights cooling somewhere inside that have almost driven me insane with hunger.

Grandma lets me go, I kick off my little shoes, and we walk inside together. The smell intensifies – it’s something familiar. It’s warm and sweet and mouth-wateringly good. “I have a treat for you, Jackson” she tells me, a smile making its way across her face – She knows me too well.

Sure enough, as we walk into the kitchen the smell has become so overwhelmingly delicious I almost can’t take it anymore – and then I spy them. There they are. A pile of them, stacked up in the most delicious, golden-brown pyramid I have ever had the good fortune to lay my young eyes upon. The excitement is almost uncontrollable now, and it is taking every last ounce of my self control to not climb up onto the kitchen counter and stuff handfuls of them into my face.

Grandma’s chocolate chip cookies. Oh Grandma, I love you!

“Well sir?” asks a disembodied voice from somewhere outside. I can’t talk to this disembodied voice now, I am far too busy. For goodness sake I have to eat a veritable mountain of biscuits, I have no time for this bodiless distraction.

“Sir?” It asks more firmly this time. The walls begin to vibrate. I turn to Grandma, she’ll know what to do about the voice and the walls. Grandma always knows what to do. However, Grandma seems to be evaporating – her features begin sliding off her face and swirling into the ether in a mist – a state of matter her loving eyes have no business being in. The biscuits too are disappearing – heck, the entire world is disappearing! What is going on? I want my Mother!

“SIR?” The voice almost shouts this time, and suddenly I’m back. I look around. This isn’t Grandma’s house. This is the third open home I’ve been to today.

Perhaps I’m going insane. Perhaps all this house hunting is taking it’s toll on the very fabric of my mind. My god, this needs to stop. I need to buy a house and be done with it. I can’t take the stress any longer. Grandma has been dead for years – yet I swear I can still smell her damned biscuits.
“Yes, yes, I’ll take it. It’s lovely” I groggily reply to the Realtor who is staring at me as though I am some kind of exotic animal in a zoo.

“Excellent choice, Sir. And might I add, what an investment….” She trails off. The biscuit smell is haunting me. I can’t handle it. I have to leave. I’m cracking up.

“Send me the paperwork, I just remembered I left the oven on!” I shout over my shoulder as I run for the door, “The house is fantastic, I can’t wait!”