When I was growing up, I remember telling my parents that I wanted to own a bakery. Now, it’s important to note that at this time in my life I did not know a thing about baking, much less did I actually try to make anything from scratch. I had my sights set on much more important things — like the office that would be in the same space as my bakery.

My dream was a two-story storefront in a cute downtown area with the bakery on the first floor and my office upstairs. And not just any stairs. My future bakery would have a pink spiral staircase with big jars of candy (all of my favorites, of course) happily nestled between the railings.

I imagined sitting upstairs balancing the books and placing orders for supplies — or the 13-year-old equivalent practicing typing on Mavis Beacon and talking to my friends — and looking out on my beautiful bakery where people could escape the reality of their day for a few sweet minutes.

When Kevin and I were looking for a house to buy last year, I couldn’t help but be tempted by a quirky A-frame that featured not one, but three spiral staircases. We visited it and immediately fell in love. It had been on the market for a while. Our realtor said it was because no one in their right mind would live in a house that required you to walk in circles to navigate the various floors.

Naturally, we bought it.

After I quit my job last week to create my own company, I couldn’t help but think that I got my office at the top of a spiral staircase. It’s just that now the brownies in the oven downstairs are for me, and there’s no way I can convince Kevin to let me paint our stairs pink.

P.S. I found my imaginary pink spiral staircase in the corner of Honeyduke’s candy store in Universal Studios’ Harry Potter World. Much like my dream of owning a bakery, it leads to nowhere.

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