This morning I woke up to a horrible stench - it smelled like pork baking in the oven. It wasn't like the wonderful smell of waking from a nap to cooking ham, it was gut wrenching and nausea inducing. I hit snooze a few times, and each time I rolled over I spent a bit of time trying to figure out where that smell had come from. Eventually I dragged my sorry butt out of bed and kicked my brain into gear, at least enough to brush my teeth and shower without hurting myself (I did, however, manage to smack the cat pretty hard on accident). By that time, the smell had resolved intself into huge amounts of melted butter and I was able to figure out that my crazy husband had gotten up early to bake biscotti for his secret santa today. Not only is he crazy for doing that, but now I'm afraid to try the leftovers because my brain associates them with the smell of pork chops.