My oven is broken.
For a long time, only the “Bake” worked. I could push it twice and the oven would come on at 350-degrees. I learned to bake everything at 350-degrees. (Never buy an oven with one these types of panels! Need I mention that our house is only two years old and therefore the oven is only two years old? It was out of warranty when the buttons went bad. Just barely. Repair? Almost as expensive as a new oven. And it’s just another panel that will go bad….. So a new oven without a panel like that is the best solution.)
Then yesterday the “Bake” button stopped working. The panel was completely dead.
I bake. That is WHO I AM.
I can’t bake now.
Where will I go? What will I do? Who will I be?
I had this little bunch of biscuits left over. Not even fresh. Just left over from the day before. And I had a big bowl of dough ready to bake bread that would never be baked.
Weston came up for dinner and I pointed to the biscuits and said, “Take the bread while you can, boy, take the bread while you can! THERE WILL NEVER BE BREAD HERE AGAIN, NEVER.”
This is all I have to say today: I languish now in deepest mourning. I baketh no more. Do not ask for whom the bell tolls. It’s darkest before it’s darker, black before it’s blacker. MY LIFE IS OVER.
52: “I’ll buy you a new oven.”
SHUT UP, I’M MOURNING–