Happiness is a warm oven

I think if I could choose one image to with which to represent myself with, it would be the following:
Me standing in my Grandparents' kitchen late at night (around 11pm) frosting some freshly baked and cooled cupcakes. I'd have a slight grin on my face too.

I found myself doing this exact thing and felt so complete. It was just me and 3 dozen cupcakes. My Grandma had gone to bed and my Grandpa was in his recliner reading the paper.

Night time baking has become so therapeutic for me. I love having the kitchen all to myself, and the sense of accomplishment when I pull those baked goods out of the oven. The smell is so inviting, even on a full stomach. But what makes me even happier is knowing that I'll be sharing these cupcakes with other people. I don't know how much delight they'll receive from it, but I hope they imagine someone tediously frosting and sprinkling that cupcake solely to bring them temporary happiness.

I don't know what it is about standing there, just focusing on that cupcake: smoothing out the folds of the frosting, precisely rounding the edges, and making sure the right amount of frosting is being used. If life were simple enough I would open up a bakery and do this all day.

When I buy a house, the kitchen will be the focal point. I'll need sufficient space to walk around in, contemplate, and a nice window to gaze out of. In the worst of times I tend to find myself in or near a kitchen, not necessarily eating, but standing there. I'm not any amazing chef or baker, I just find kitchens comforting. I like getting a glass of water and slowly sipping on it as I stare out into a neighboring yard with no clear thoughts in mind.