Sunday, February 14, 2010
Take one ball of giant-ply linen string, knitting needles with muscle and a promise to clean the oven. Experimental knitting of what looks to be a small doormat seems a worthy source of oven-cleaning procrastination.
Big knitting is the craft equivalent of large print books. Fingers can easily ‘read’ string without eyeball intervention – I can even manage a simultaneous, more than reasonable impression of puzzles-with-kid or TV-plotline-following. The future is clear: with any aged decline in eyesight, I shall cut a fine, bespectacled figure, gadding about in knitted-without-looking, big string fashion.
Sadly, string experimentary hasn’t made any oven issues go away. Ten days ago, someone (me), stashed leftover dinner for ongoing toasty warmth should ‘seconds’ be required. They weren’t – but removal from oven slipped someone’s (my) mind. The weather promptly came over hot, humid and distinctly not for the oven-baked: salads and barbecues only. Every now and then (and weirdly at various locations within the house), I would catch a whiff of something strangely sweet and faintly unnerving. The whole while, the contents of the oven were quietly festering, moistly covering their dark den in the finest film of pungent-est, palest green, fur-growth-stuff. Someone (me), will be needing breathing apparatus. Someone (me) thinks moving house a thoroughly viable option.
PS. After much eco-friendly but heavy-duty oven cleaning research I am utterly confused. To ammonia-fumigate-closed-oven or not to ammonia-fumigate-closed-oven: that is the question. It all seems noxious and toxic and awful to me – even though the wee-like whiff does have a better than ten day old (in moist weather) Morrocan Chicken attraction. Any top tips, wise and knowledgeable readers?
PPS. Valentine’s Day is not happening chez Myrtleandeunice – for obvious reasons. None of that usual baking of sweet, heart treats. Because I love them all, so very much.