What were you parents even DOING in the 60s??

So the other day I was reading to Alex from Ramona the Pest, by Beverly Cleary. For the most part it holds up. Still a great book. However, there are times when you can definitely tell this book was written in a different age.

Last night there was a particular scene, when Ramona’s sister Beezus has a dentist appointment. Ramona’s mom tells Ramona that she’s got to stay home by herself until quarter past 8, and then walk herself to school, and then just leaves to take Beezus to the dentist. Ramona, being in KINDERGARTEN, is not exactly clear on what “quarter past 8” means, and accidentally leaves late, arriving after school has already started. The whole thing is presented very matter of fact, as if to say “ha ha, kids are so dumb! They can’t even get themselves to kindergarten by themselves!”

WHAT. THE. HECK??

Look, I know it was a different time and all, but it wasn’t THAT different. Did people actually do this in the 60s? Just be like, “alright kid, you’re 5 years old…guess you’re on your own!” Ah, kindergarten…time to push that baby bird out of the nest and let them learn to fly, am I right?

You can accuse modern parents of “helicoptering” all you want, but telling a kid who doesn’t even yet know how to tell time she’s responsible for getting herself out the door and to school on her own seems a little bit crazy. On the other hand, I don’t know; maybe kindergarteners really were capable of that kind of independence once upon a time. Maybe my “modern sensibilities” are stunting the growth of my kids?

Or, maybe the 60s was a lawless time where parents were INSANE??

Thinking about Death today

The initial estimates for Covid-19, if left unchecked, were around 1.4 million deaths in the United States; the total cumulative deaths in the US from ALL wars, all the way back to the Revolutionary War, is about 1.35 million*. Even though we are no longer looking at that worst case scenario, the fact that this had the power to kill more people than every war combined is really messing with my head right now.

The most current, much more conservative estimates (which include social distancing measures), still have the US exceeding 93k deaths. That’s nearly twice the US death total from the Vietnam war (56k), and almost 3 times the death total from the Korean War (36k).

It does not take much imagination to think we might exceed the US death total from World War I (116k).

I think about those wars and what a profound effect they had on the US, and on the world. Titanic shifts that changed everything about our country, our politics, our industries…we are currently experiencing something that is potentially several times larger.

WWII was ~400k, so we may or may not get there, but it’s just….wow.

Stay at home, kids.

 

*Numbers come from here; I am using the Total US Deaths number, rather than the Total US Casualties number, because those numbers also include the wounded.

A weird day in a weird month

We had been putting off going to the grocery store as long as we could. We had planned to go on Thursday, then put it off until Friday, and now it was Saturday. Sara made a whole plan: go first thing, wear gloves, don’t bring our reusable bags, be prepared with lots of hand sanitizer. We even had a “food quarantine” area set up for when she got back.

Except, when she went out to get in the car….nothing. Turns out one of the kids had turned the dome light on the last time we had used the car, and as we hadn’t used it in a few days…

Needless to say, our plan was out the window. The car didn’t even have enough juice to unlock.

Sara and I pushed the car out of the garage and into the alley, which required a very excited (though very nervous!) 6th grader to drive the car:

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We called a friend to come and give us a (n appropriately socially distanced) jumpstart (thank you AGAIN Lois! What would we do without you??), but after 10 minutes (in the rain) the car still wouldn’t start.

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So unfortunately we had to push the car over to the side of the alley to get it out of the way; back to square one.

But as it turns out, we live right around the corner from an O’Reilly’s. I gave them a call and it turns out they had a battery tester / charger that you can use for free! (but not free of charge GET IT?!) So I took out the battery and carried it over to the store (those things are heavy). They took my name and number and promised to call me back when it was done charging.

Except it didn’t charge in an hour. It didn’t charge in two hours. Eventually, the machine agreed with the writing on the wall: the battery was kaput. (I don’t really understand this, as it was a new battery, less than a year old, and the cause was quite evident, with the dome light still in the “on” position! But whatever, at this point I just wanted to get my car out of the alley!)

So I walked over and bought a new battery, and carried it home (did I mention, those things were heavy?) but when I got it back and wrestled it into place, it turns out it was the wrong size, and wouldn’t fit. So I carried it BACK to O’Reilly’s, exchanged it, and carried the new battery back home (like SUPER, SUPER heavy).

Finally, about 5 hours later, we had a working car!

NOT to say there weren’t a few hiccups along the way. I had been ready to sing the praises to the high heavens about O’Reilly’s, but the extra trip back carrying the wrong battery cooled my ardor a little bit. And then there was discovering that you have to have the key turned when you reconnect the battery or else the horn just blares as loud and as long as it can, or the fact that our radio is now locked in some kind of security mode and won’t turn on, but hey! It disrupted our lives about the minimum it possibly could, and cost less than $200 (so help me those kids better never so much as LOOK at that dome light switch again).

Even in a weird, quarantined world, we had a weird day.

Afterwards we went for a drive to make sure everything was working (we had originally planned to do this once we got the battery jumped, to make sure it was charged, and even though we had a new battery and didn’t really need to do that anymore, it still seemed like the thing to do!), and we drove downtown.

I was kind of expecting to see a creepy empty wasteland, but (unfortunately) that’s not what I saw. Sure, the tourists were gone and traffic was *great*, but there were still LOTS and LOTS of people out and about.

Hang on to your butts, folks, this is going to get worse before it gets better.

Notes From Quarantine

So most of you have already seen on social media that I was exposed to Covid-19 early on, and am now in day 10 of my quarantine. I don’t want to bury the lede on that, but more than that I just wanted to put down some thoughts about where we’re at right now (mostly for posterity’s sake, but also because writing always has been and always will be the way I work through things).

So I’m going to back up and tell this chronologically.

Okay, so rewind all the way back to Thursday, March 12th. Things were just starting to break, and we didn’t yet know what to make of all of this. I had a doctor’s appointment in the morning which ended up going longer than I expected, so I worked from home the rest of the day (something that I am set up and able to do, and boy am I appreciative at this point!).

On Friday, Sara convinced me to work from home, even though I was skeptical of how “socially distant” we needed to be at this point. But, as I said, I can work from home relatively easily, so why not. Sara has consistently been ahead of me on the anxiety scale on all of this, partially because she works at a hospital and is much more connected on the medical scene, partially because she is an obsessive researcher and read the entire Internet several times over in those first few days, and partially because I tend toward low anxiety to begin with. “Eh, it will be fine, rub some dirt on it,” is where I start and end on most medical issues. So usually Sara freaks out about something, I tell her she’s crazy, then in a few days she is proven correct and *I* start to freak out about it, but Sara is already freaking out about the next thing. Rinse, repeat.

We considered keeping the kids home from school that Friday, but school had already announced they would be closed as of Monday, so we decided to let the kids go to school for that last day. In retrospect, we probably should have kept them home, but it was so hard to know what to do at that point. I also ordered my employees to work from home, got my hand slapped for not following the company policy, and then the company policy quickly followed suit a couple of hours later. I am extremely proud of that decision, given that I later found out I had already been exposed. Had I gone into the office that Friday, I would have risked exposing my entire office, not to mention all of the people on public transportation, etc.

Over the weekend, we had been planning to visit my Grandma and deliver Girl Scout cookies to relatives. Grandma’s place closed to all visitors, so that was out, but I was adamant that we should still deliver the Girl Scout cookies. Sara was very upset about this, and we had a big fight. Ultimately I insisted, but Sara stayed home with the boys.

Very rarely is someone proven so spectacularly and publicly correct! Again, given that I found out days later I had already been exposed, there is absolutely no way I should have gone to see relatives. Sara has done her best not to say, “I told you so”, but boy howdy did that turn out to be an I told you so moment! Like I said, Sara has consistently been a few days ahead of me on this stuff, and these days a few days is an eternity. The situation has been changing by the hour.

Okay, so we spent the day visiting, but we really did have about the minimum social contact possible. Most people didn’t feel like hanging around and chatting.

Monday began our new reality in earnest. Sara and I were both scheduled to work from home, while also beginning a second, full-time job of homeschooling 3 kids. It’s not so much the homeschooling: at this point we are not even really making an attempt to “teach” them anything. It’s more just about keeping everybody occupied and out of each other’s hair.

At the time of writing this, we are one week in and have had….varying success.

Sara prepared a detailed schedule, and it has been a life saver. Even though most of the things are non-rigorous activities like “computer time”, “free time”, “read quietly in your bedroom time”, and “bake with mama”, it both keeps the kids occupied while we try to work, and also helps the day pass. There is something about just saying, “Okay, you have to stop reading because now it’s art time,” that is really just…necessary. I don’t know how else to say it. If the kids were just lounging around in their PJs all day, we would all have murdered each other already.

The most important part of the schedule is that Evelyn and Oliver each have an hour to plan and an hour to give a lesson to Alex. This has gone SPECTACULARLY well! They usually read him a book and then do a craft or lesson based on that book. They have really stepped up to the challenge, and I honestly think it’s the time that all three of them most look forward to in the day. (The part I most look forward to is family game night hour, after Alex goes to bed! It has been so fun to do that every night, even though some nights I would rather just lay in bed and obsessively read the news. Maybe especially on those nights.)

So four days go by, and we’re making it. We have our good moments and our bad moments. I can tell everybody is on edge. We’re already getting sick of being around each other so much (side note: I have never been happier that we moved from the condo to this big old house, then when the 5 of us have been stuck in it together for 9 days!!!), and of course Sara and I are getting increasingly stressed out, and not sleeping well. Even Alex has been a little extra. I can’t help but wonder about what he is absorbing from all of this disruption. He’s not old enough to understand, but he’s certainly old enough to pick up on the mood.

During these days, when people were starting to shut themselves in, is when most of the obsessive hoarding / shopping was going on. At one point the kids asked, “Everybody’s buying up all the toilet paper and food and stuff…why aren’t we stocking up?” Well, good news, kids! Who had a cabinet full of toilet paper before it was cool? Who already shops at Costco on a weekly basis and has pantry shelves full of home-canned applesauce and tomato sauce and enough jam to last SEVERAL lifetimes? (The one thing that we DID panic buy were puzzles. Lots and lots of puzzles. So we got that going for us, which is nice.)

I know it’s not exactly the zombie apocalypse, but…

When I got the call from the hospital on Thursday, saying that I had been exposed to a healthcare provider who had tested positive for Covid-19, it was both quite a shock and also the most expected thing in the world. I had already resigned myself by that point that we were all going to get it, that getting it was inevitable, and that our immediate family was in the low risk for complications category. The important thing was to stay home and limit the spread; something we had already been doing for almost a week at that point (with the exception of a liiiiiitle trip to Wisconsin — sorry guys!). So in effect, it changed nothing.

At the same time, it changed everything.

I will never forget Evelyn and Oliver’s faces when we told them I had been exposed. Sheer terror. It was like this big scary thing that had been turning their lives upside down was now revealed to be in their midst. The call was coming from inside the house. And though I wasn’t panicked for myself, Sara and I did have a couple of hours of just staring at each other thinking, “What are we going to do??” followed by bouts of furious Cloroxing.

However, even by the time we went to bed I think we realized that A) it would be impossible for me to be separated from the rest of the family, and probably unnecessary anyway, because we had been so ceaselessly together for the 6 days since I had been exposed, and B) at this point the chance of death from going stir crazy and murdering each other was higher than the chance of death from Corona. It simply would not be possible for Sara to handle the three kids on her own. (I did volunteer to immediately stop doing any dishes or laundry, JUST TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE, but she didn’t take me up on it.)

In the days since The Call, things have gone back to normal (if by normal you mean last week. It’s amazing how quickly abnormal becomes normal!). All things considered, the kids have been just great. Not to say we haven’t had our moments, but who can say what kinds of pressures the kids are under. What a disruption of their lives, what a scary thing to live through. I don’t think it is an over-exaggeration to say this will be the defining event of their generation. This is their 9/11. And they are living it right now in realtime.

For myself, it’s awfully hard not to worry.

We are starting to run up against shortages. We’re under a state-wide shutdown now. There are lines to get into grocery stores, because they’re only letting so many people in at a time. Amazon deliveries went from one day, to three days, to no estimated delivery date. We order groceries online, but less than half of what we ordered actually arrives. We have tried to order whole wheat flour from FIVE DIFFERENT PLACES, in addition to going to THREE DIFFERENT grocery stores, and our best bet at this point is scheduled to be delivered next Friday (we have 35 lbs of flour trying to make its way to us from various sources….I’m worried it will all show up, but on the other hand afraid to cancel any of them until I actually have a bag in my hot little hands!)

Given all of that, and even though we have more than enough food already to sustain us for a month if we have to, it is really hard not to start worrying about food. What do you mean, you’re going to dump out half a glass of milk? Do you know what we had to do to get that milk? Throwing away the crust of sandwich? NOT ON MY WATCH, MISTER!

Someone said to me the other day they’re starting to appreciate the hoarding tendencies of people who lived through the Great Depression, and I felt that in my bones.

I should say that I think different parts of the country are at different places with this right now. I think the places that were early hit, such as Washington, California, and New York, are experiencing things a week or so ahead of us here in Chicago, and likewise, we seem to be experiencing things ahead of other parts of the country. It is jarring to see what things are like here in Chicago, and then to hop on Facebook and see people elsewhere just…going about their daily lives. And then a few days later, they catch up and suddenly they’re shutting things down, or changing their habits, and I have to remember that it took me a few days to believe this was a thing that was really happening. It’s a bit like living in the future (except not in a good way). A dystopian future, I guess. But anyway, if you’re not yet experiencing shortages or cancelled deliveries, maybe take advantage while you still can.

Mostly I worry about the economy. People I know are starting to get laid off. I struggle to see how we recover from this. I know we will, eventually. But in the meantime…what happens? What happens when every restaurant goes out of business because they can’t make money when nobody can leave the house? What happens to those servers who they have to lay off, who now can’t pay their rent? What happens when those people get Corona and have to go to the hospital? Who pays for that? How far up the chain does it have to go until my job is affected, or Sara’s?

I think a lot about what this is all going to mean, how it’s going to impact our future. Maybe it’s the Science Fiction writer in me. But I really don’t think things are ever going to be the same. Sure we’ll have a vaccine at some point, and the economy will (eventually) come back. But the world will have been shook to its foundations. Who can predict how that will play out? Who can say what psychological effect this is going to have on all those 4th, 5th, and 6th graders missing out on half their school year? Will social isolation become the norm, and FaceTime hangouts be the way we interact now? Will it be inspiring to young people? Will it cause them to take climate change head on, or lead to a career in medicine or science? Or has it ripped the scales from their eyes too young, as they realize that our social and governmental institutions are a thin veneer, easily punctured, causing an entire generation to live paralyzed under a cloud of fear and anxiety, forever waiting for the other shoe to drop?

I guess we’re all going to find out together. Just like my quarantine: one day at a time.

Soft Slippers

A couple of years ago, Sara asked me what I wanted for Christmas. “Soft slippers,” I said, thinking of how cold our house always is. I thought that was a pretty good suggestion, but Sara kept sending me links to slippers.

Sara: “Like these ones?”
Me: “No. Soft ones. Not ones that look like shoes, you know? Soft ones.”
Sara: “How about these?”
Me: “No, soft slippers!”
Sara: “THESE ARE MADE EXCLUSIVELY FROM THE SOFTEST BABY LAMBS WOOL, LAMBS THAT SUP ON ONLY MILK AND HAVE NEVER SEEN THE HARSH LIGHT OF THE SUN. THEY ARE HAND STITCHED BY MONKS USING HAIRS FROM A NEWBORN’S HEAD! THEY DO NOT MAKE SLIPPERS SOFTER THAN THIS!!”
Me: ::sigh:: “No, not these ones.”

Clearly I was failing to make myself clear in some way. So I spent some time googling around the Internet and finally came back.

Me: “Okay, I was using the wrong words, and that’s on me. Apparently the correct phrase is ‘Novelty Plush slippers‘.”

I happily showed her all the examples I found, like the ones that had a dangly, light-up, angler fish piece, and the ones that looked like Bigfoot feet, and the ones that made Godzilla stomping sounds when you walked. “SOFT SLIPPERS!” I crowed.

Sara:

Sara argued vociferously that it didn’t make sense to buy cheap slippers that were ultimately going to fall apart, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and it was *my* Christmas present after all.

So in the end, the kids picked out some awesome tiger feet, and I loved them and wore them every minute. I lost track of the number of times I came to the door for a package or to let in a repair man or something and forgot they were on my feet. And yes, they were cheap and ultimately fell apart, even despite the massive amounts of bacon duct tape I tried to use to hold them together.

The following Christmas I REALLY, REALLY wanted to ask for a new pair of slippers but I didn’t dare, not after Sara had given me so much fuss about buying slippers that would last. So I just added another layer of duct tape and didn’t say anything. However, the FOLLOWING year, I figured I would be in the clear to ask for a new pair. Two years of every day use is respectable, right? But Sara was done with me and my soft slippers, and she declined to get me any.

Okay, fine, if you want something done right you’ve got to do it yourself. Except she did kind of get to me…did I really want to buy another pair of (awesome) slippers that would only last one (awesome) year? As much as I loved the tiger feet, they didn’t exactly fit, and, if I’m being totally honest, after all the stuffing leaked out of the bottom (we’re talking, like, day 2 here) they weren’t very comfortable to stand on the hardwood floor for any length of time.

On the other hand, I looked at all the “good” slippers and they were all, “no, no NO”. They just looked like shoes! Where was the dangly, light-up, angler fish thingy? Where were the Godzilla stomping sounds? Aren’t there any slippers out there for a respectable adult who wants some respectable, well-made, Novelty Plush slippers?

Well, after a long, long, LONG time I finally found a pair of slippers that weren’t too bad, which I watched like a hawk until they went on sale. I give you, my new Sorels:

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Nice, warm, well made, soft…they were okay. They were fine. I guess. If you had to have slippers.

But they were still missing that certain je ne sais quoi…

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Now THOSE are some nice slippers! 😍😍😍

Lordy, Lordy – Thoughts on turning 40

As I have said before, I am not generally one to get stuck on milestone birthdays. I have always been fortunate enough and that makes me feel pretty good about birthdays (or maybe it’s just because I lost my hair so very, very long ago, so I’ve had no choice but to get over it). This year, for starters, I have a wonderful, healthy family, a nice house, a good job (with a surprise promotion just yesterday!), and I’m the healthiest physically I’ve been probably since high school. So I don’t exactly look back on my 30s with a lot of regrets.

All that being said, there is something about the big 4-0, and I have found myself dwelling on it a lot more than I thought I would as it approached. Not specifically the birthday itself, but just getting older in general. It seems like in the past 6 months or so, I have felt a million new aches and pains. Maybe just because it has been on my mind, I don’t know.

But it really does feel like, for the first time, I’m starting to feel “old”.

For whatever reason, when I think of “parents” or “the previous generation” I always imagine the people who would sit in the stands at like middle and high school sporting events. I don’t know why, but in any case, I can’t help but acknowledge that that’s me now, you know? (Side note: we had kids relatively young, and thank god! Parenting is so exhausting, that I seriously cannot imagine doing it any older. How could I accomplish this with any less energy?!)

I suppose the cliche is to say I feel younger than I am, and that is both true and not true. I just went over all the reasons it’s not true, but I think it’s also fair to say that I still spend time making memes and reading comic books and playing dungeons and dragons and I fall asleep nearly every night thinking about programing robots to fight other robots, which….I don’t know exactly what a 40 year old is supposed to be doing, but I certainly wouldn’t have guessed it was that stuff.

Even with all that, there is something about the number 40, though. Yesterday, if I were talking to someone who was, let’s say 24, I would have (optimistically) thought, “Well, they’re in their 20s and I’m in my 30s, so we’re not SO different in age!” But suddenly today I have to instead think, “They’re in their 20s and I’m in my 40s. That’s a 20 year difference!”

That is a lot of aging to experience all at once.

So, you know, here I am. Middle aged. Bald, with a kid in middle school, but also probably living a better life than I had imagined I would. Struggling sometimes with parenting, but also super fulfilled by my career and hobbies, and learning new things every day. Wishing I had more time, but also happy with the way I spend my time and money.

Now just wait until I hit 50…

 

The Case of the @#$%^& Stove

Since we moved into this house, two burners on the stove have been kind of problematic. One of them won’t spark, which means it works fine…as long as you light it with a lighter. The other one sparks continuously, which means it works fine…as long as you don’t mind a constant, crazy-making *tick tick tick tick* the entire time you’re using it.

For me, these things are mostly an annoyance, but I have taken a couple of runs at them over the years and been unable to solve them after varying amounts of work. However, they drive Sara kind of crazy.

So “getting someone to fix the stove” has been in the back of my mind as a backup Christmas gift for years, but I’ve never actually arranged it. Then, a couple of months ago, I got a message from Sara’s friend Jackie:

“For an early Christmas present for Sara, please hire someone to fix the stove burners before Christmas.”

Now, I was a bit suspicious of this, because why would this person even know about the stove burners, much less decide to send me this message out of nowhere? SUPPOSEDLY, Sara had mentioned how badly she wanted them fixed when she visited back in April, and Jackie had CREATED A CALENDAR APPOINTMENT to remind herself to tell me!! I wasn’t 100% sure whether Sara had just texted Jackie and said, “Tell Shane to fix the stove”, or whether Jackie really had the foresight to hear this, note it down, and follow up 6 months later (knowing Jackie, this was totally in the realm of possibility), but either way, seemed like I should just go ahead and get the stove fixed.

On the day of, I took the kids to school as normal and didn’t mention it to anyone, with my plan to sneak back home after without anybody knowing and wait for the repairman. I thought ahead enough to turn off the security cameras, but I realized the smart garage door would notify to Sara’s phone. “Oh well,” I thought, “she’ll probably never notice, and even if she does, that thing glitches all the time.” Except LITERALLY THE SECOND THE GARAGE DOOR OPENED Sara texted me, “The garage door just opened.”

“Huh, that’s weird,” I texted back, “Oh well, looks like it’s closed now…” All day long she kept texting me things like, “Oh, make sure you bring that package home from work,” and I’d say something non-committal like, “Oh, you know, I’ll bring it home someday this week!” To which she’d reply something like, “No, you need to bring it home today.” At some point I thought to myself, “CLEARLY she knows that I’m not at work and this is some kind of TEST to see how far I’ll go before I break and admit it AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Proving that I should never ever try to get away with anything, because I am not equipped to handle it, and am the worst, weirdest liar on the planet.

No problem, I thought, I only need to make it through the day. By the time she comes home tonight, this will all be fixed up and I can explain what happened and we can all have a laugh! Oh we will laugh and laugh!

Finally the repairman arrived and I explained the situation with the burners, what I had tried so far, and finally saying that I think the sparker things needed to be replaced on both burners. “Did you clean them?” he asked.

Now, I understand that this is the appliance repairman version of, “Did you try turning it off and turning it back on?” which means, not only are they required to ask, but they are also required to not believe me when I say, “Yes. Multiple times.” So he proceeds to get out his wire brushes and clean them again. For about 30 minutes. After which he stands back, wipes his brow, and goes, “Man, they’re still not working.”
“Yeah, I already tried that. So, um, anyways, as I said, I think that the sparker things need to be replaced on both burners…”
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head incredulously. “You’d have to take the whole thing apart to do that.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s…that’s why I wanted to hire someone to do it.”
“Well, I don’t have time to do that today. You’ll have to call and make another appointment.”

NOT TO BE DETERRED, I spent some time looking at it after he left, and I quickly realized the reason the constantly sparking burner was constantly sparking was because there was a gas flow problem (and a poor burner design problem) that was causing the flame not to light in the little area next to the sparker. So, simply by adjusting a little screw, I could let a little more gas in and, voila! Flame stays lit, clicky clicky goes away.

THANKS FOR NOTHING APPLIANCE REPAIR PROFESSIONAL!

However, that didn’t change the fact that the other burner still didn’t spark, and replacing the sparky thing would require taking the whole thing apart, something which I had already explicitly decided I didn’t want to do myself, but I certainly wasn’t going to hire THAT company again.

So, one day when I was home with the kids, I dove back in, committed to finally getting to the bottom of this. If that guy could call himself an appliance repair professional (not sure he actually calls himself an ‘appliance repair professional’), surely I could do as well as he could.

And when I say the whole thing had to be taken apart, I mean THE. WHOLE. THING. Front, sides, back, a part on the bottom for some reason???

So after about 3 hours, I ran into a little problem in that, in order to complete the final step and disconnect the burners from the top, I was going to need to buy a tool that I didn’t have. As I kind of sat there in despair, I happened to notice that inside the front panel, on the burner that wasn’t working, there was some sort of little switchy thing that was cracked. Sure enough, I swapped it for the one of the other ones that was functional and it worked! Which was great, because, 1) hooray! I knew what the problem was and how to fix it, and it didn’t require leaving the stove lying in pieces all over the kitchen! And, 2) the three hours of work I had spent disassembling the stove was all for naught! And that kind of troubleshooting is they kind of expertise that you might get by HIRING AN APPLIANCE. REPAIR. PROFESSIONAL.

That’s not to say we didn’t have our fun when we were taking the stove apart. Like the time when Ollie came running over and accidentally kicked a pile of screws under the stove. Would have hated to miss out on that part!

Okay, but, don’t get distracted by the little things, I knew what I need to do. A quick trip to Ace Hardware followed by a longer, more frustrating trip to the appliance parts store, followed by a quick trip to Amazon.com and soon our replacement part (a microwave door switch? Why a microwave door switch??) was winging its way to us across untold miles. And when it got to us, just days before Christmas, it was just a simple five forty-five minute job to get it replaced and fully functional again!

And that is the story of the most effort for the least impact of any Christmas present I ever got for anybody, but I didn’t murder or yell at anybody, not even that time Ollie kicked the screws under the stove, which is a goll dang Christmas miracle.

~fin~