I have a ridiculous attachment to a house I have never been in. It's the house where a guy I've never met taught me to cook Penne Pasta with Vodka Sauce. It's a dish that's become part of the regular rotation at my house, because it's darned tasty. It's a house where the chatelaine was kind enough to share some of her life with her husband and his friends making music, a house where there are adorable dogs, that I want to scritch and cuddle. I have an affection for this house, similar to my first apartment with my husband, later the house where I raised my family. I want to wish them luck and joy in their new home, with their approaching parenthood. With those wishes, I fear that I cross a line, break a wall. Gotta say it anyway.