Sunday, November 20, 2005

The door fell off my oven yesterday.

Yep, there I am, all domestic goddess like, innocently preparing to bake a dish of turkey enchiladas, when BANG!, there goes the door. This is just a few weeks after the refrigerator door fell off. (BTW, it was a great comfort to learn that other people, like the hilarious JunosMom, have owned refrigerators with malfunctioning doors. One never likes to feel alone when suffering appliance meltdown.)

Now, I have never known anyone who had doors fall off their major appliances, although my sister's car door fell off once, and the nice man who put it back on later became her husband, but I already have a husband, so if a nice man comes to put my oven door back on, he will want my money and not my affections, in which case I will point him in the direction of aforementioned husband who has both my affections and my money, but not my chocolate.

What am I to make of all these falling-off doors? Is my cooking so bad that this is a not-so-subtle sign to cease and desist meal preparation? Is my home, after 30 years of housing largish families, waving the white flag of surrender, and if so, what is the next thing to pitifully give way? Should I buy stock in GE or Maytag? Should I arrange a marriage between one of my daughters and a contractor? Can a complete Thanksgiving meal be prepared with only a microwave, a sippie cup lid , and a relish fork? What if the hokey-pokey really *is* what it's all about?

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