The Day I Tried to Clean the Oven

           Since we’re all wilting in this blistering heat (triple digits all week), I decided to organize and clean. Inside. Where it’s cool. I clipped my hair up and organized the pots and pans. I organized the silverware, knives, and spatulas.  Then I decided to clean the oven.  Why not? It’s definitely not a day when I’m going to bake something, right?

I was already sweaty, but not to be deterred. First I sprayed oven cleaner throughout the oven. Then I remembered we have a self-cleaning oven.

So I used a million billion paper towels, and wiped off all the oven cleaner. Next I started the oven, which immediately locked and chose its own time of 3 ½ hours. 

Soon the house was filled with fog or smoke or smog-- take your pick-- and the smoke alarms went off.  Shrill beeping all the neighbors can hear.

 

I opened the front and back doors, so now it’s not only smoky, but HOT.  What a crazy day to choose for oven cleaning! Now I’m even more sweaty.

St. Bob sees my frustration and kisses me on the back of the neck. “Aaugh!” I say, “Don’t kiss my sweaty neck—it’s gross!”

But I am too late. He doesn’t say anything, but the poor man’s lips have to be covered with salty sweat. Now I’m even more upset.

  THIS is why people eat too much ice cream.  There. Like how I did that?

You can stay inside without opening any doors if you busy yourself watching my Youtube Mom videos.