My oven is losing its mind. Which would be funny if it wasn’t freaking true. When we bought this house, the oven caught my eye like a painted up floozy. It was maybe five years ago now? It’s a double oven. Not super fancy in-the-wall, but two ovens in one unit.
I was in love. I could cook two separate meals at once! Never mind that I hate to cook, it was the possibility that set my brain aflame. Now, it wasn’t a spring chicken but it could cook the fuck out of spring chicken. Twice.
Yes, I burned some meals. Yes, sometimes a morsel of food fell to the bottom and caught fire, but we worked it out, my two-headed oven and I.
But I’m afraid our relationship is puttering out. How do I know this? Because my oven, which has a digital display, has been calling for help.
Every once in a while, it beeps. And beeps. And beeps. Until I press the cancel button. Even though I’m not cooking anything. And then it will pick an oven to lock. Either the top or the bottom, I never know which one.
Then a scrolling message unveils itself where my time used to be. The message is:
Call an Authorized Dealer!
And it suggests an 1-800 number. Well, I totally read it as “Call an authority!” the first time I saw it. I expected my oven to call appliance 911.
At first it angered me. The beeping at odd times, sometimes waking me from sleep, etc.
Then I just ignored it. It’s been about a week now.
But now I’m starting to feel sorry for it. Sort of like ET with the frigging blanket and his large, light-up dildo. My oven wants to go back to the mother ship.
I want to phone home for this Maytag. It’s had enough of my crazy ass. I guess I’ll need a new oven. But how can I part with this one knowing it will be beeping in some junkyard, begging for someone to call the 1-800 number?
And what if I call the 1-800 like my oven is suggesting? Will it tell on me? All the times I didn’t line a pan? The drippings from all the gruel I’ve made for my family was hardly kept to Maytag’s standards.
I don’t even know what to do about this oven.