Much angst and cash, the oven
Still does not work.
My makeshift repair
On the recliner pulley
Is unravelling.
The tree sits, naked,
In the corner. Now for the
Trip to the attic.
Several years ago, we did a minor kitchen remodel. We (or rather, our contractor) ripped out the old ovens in the pantry, installed the wine fridge in its place, and fixed the space below the stove to receive a new oven (replacing the old behemoth microwave I inherited with the house.) For the duration of oven-less-ness, we purchased a nifty microwave which doubled as a convection oven.
The week before New Years, the lower coil of the oven stopped functioning. We (and our handyman guru) assumed the problem was with the coil, as the broiler still worked. On New Year's Eve day, I started calling around. No one had the coil, and it was going to cost $118. Oy. I looked online and got the super-cheap price of $93 to quote to the locals, and we ordered it for that.
On Tuesday D went to pick it up, and then the ugly process of replacing it commenced. Neither of us are in shape to squat on the ground and root around in the bowels of the oven, so we took turns. Since we had to turn off the electricity, our light came from a headlamp and a flashlight, held unsteadily by the partner as the floor person rooted around at the back of the oven. The element was held in place by two screws with a squarish hole: we had to search through the tips on the screwdriver kit for the right size and shape, and we had to figure out how to set the handle to turn the right way. It's the first time I had seen a reversible screwdriver handle, and I'm still not sure what the point of that is.
What with interruptions (why do people call the instant the breaker box is turned off?) and irritations, we did not find the proper equanimity to finish the job until yesterday. And, as I set about making bread pudding and D started defrosting the steaks, I proudly started the pre-heat function.
The bread pudding was baked in the tiny convection oven.
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