I finally got tired of lighting the burners with a lighter and guestimating at oven temperature because the dial on our old gas oven was all screwed up. I took the audacious step of complaining to our landlady.

Within a few days she surprised and pleased me with a phone call saying they'd be delivering our new stove the next day. I was all excited to cook up the lambroast Ben had bought us, to welcome Daniel back from New York with a feast.

It made me a little nervous when she showed up with her friend, the same jocular fellow who put in the new bathroom floor and 'fixed' the toilet-now you only have to flush it two or three times postdump. But they did a fab job of toting the old monster out and hauling the 'new' stove in.

I was all excited to be getting a working oven and so when she told me she was leaving the cleaning to me I didn't beef about it, it didn't look TOO bad anyway.

Until I opened the door.

Bleaaaaah...

Two hours and a lotta elbow grease(well, actually noxious chemical cleaner) later I finally found myself looking at

a pretty spic n span new stove. I was too tuckered out to launch into a roast yo. Luckily my lovely mom showed up, played with the kids whilst I finished the cleaning, and ordered pizza for dinner. Hurray for mamas!

There was even some left for the boys when they trailed in from the airport later that night.

They thought the new stove was great. Little did they know I saved the broiler drawer for them.