Days like today, growing up, my mom would build a fire in the fireplace and burn papers. Discarded magazines, old newspapers, items with what we would now call sensitive information. So my ears are suggesting I go down in the basement of a house I haven't lived in for 30+ years and my nose is insisting something doesn't smell right because there's no tang of smoke in the damp.

Next I'll be rabbiting on about madeleines.