Well, my Auntie Annie, wife (ex-wife? No - widow. That's the word I'm fumbling for: Widow), okay, widow of my late Uncle Sardonicus... well, keep reading as it pleases you to do so.
88 (cousin eighty-eight) was scheduled to go on vacation with her Ess-Oh Boy Toy when Sardonicus checked into the ER. There was trouble in the old boiler house, so 88 postponed her flight to someplace in Europe and sat with her parents until, about two days later, Sardonicus cashed in his chips (violins please). Then they sat around for a while with a dead body. I stopped in and asked if they needed anything; they didn't. The pastor of their local church showed up, and she was fairly cool towards yours truly, offering a handshake that made me surreptitiously extract my pocket handkerchief and wipe my hand. Just as she's walking in, the desire to drop a line on the order of, "Pardon Sardonicus for not getting up." was almost, almost overpowering. So I hit the bricks before levity could take a firmer hold.
Alas poor Sardonicus. I knew him... and I know he'd have appreciated the humor. It was just the sort of comment he'd make, if he were still talking. Normal people don't act like this, and I suspect don't have such thoughts or inclinations, but I do.
88 gets on the bird for Europe, there to frolic naked with the Swedes in the Alps. I'll tell you, those fuckin' Swedes! You think I'm just blowing smoke, but I'm not. The Krauts got the same habit - fun and frolic in the nude. So while 88 is working on her all-over tan, I'm supposed to be looking after Auntie Annie, which drives me right into Crazy Town. She's got bats in her belfry and she needs a specific brand of bottled water. I can't remember the brand, but it's expensive and hard to find. Then her cat needs food, and like the water, it's expensive and hard to find. Then I call Auntie Annie and she won't answer the phone. Two days and a zillion calls later, and I call the front desk of the Last Stop Before The End Of The Line old folks home. I find out that 88 is back from the Alps, and Auntie Annie is in the hospital with a urinary tract infection (UTI), which, I'm told, women tend to get and men do not. Moreover, having one makes women nuttier than usual, which is saying something. Men, by the way, tend not to get UTIs and in the unlikely event that they do, men remain sane.
My first question is something on the order of, "Has Auntie Annie been cleaning her marital aid device between sessions?"
This isn't going to work. Why do I even think of these things? But it was always so.
On another front, I recently bought a new range, an Empava EMPV-30GR06. I can't get the oven to light, and whoever it is manning the help desk accepts email only. Anyone with experience getting this thing to work is officially asked to write instructions in the comments section - thanks in advance.
The rest of you - thanks for reading.
2 comments:
What does the instruction book say to do. Or go where you bought it and ask sales person how to light the over. You have a gas burner oven or induction, conventional? I haven't seen a gas oven in over 40 some years.
It's gas with convection. I discovered how to light it by accident, and it's not intuitive. Step one is to reset everything to zero. Two, turn the gas to the temperature you want (it won't go on). Three, there's a digital setting labeled 'cook time'. Set it to the time you want to run the oven - say, one hour. Four, push the gas / temperature control knob in and wait until the oven lights.
Then, as an added bonus, the convection fan turns on automatically when the oven door is opened for the food to be placed inside. No choice, you must run the convection fan because, as it turns out, it's also used to cool the oven which is otherwise prone to overheating which will cause it to shut down.
What I wanted was something that would work like the old fashioned gas range, even if I had to light it with a strike anywhere match.
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