It has been five weeks. We’ve had food, shelter, friends, love. And yet, its absence has created tensions in our little island. The natives are used to its regular use for survival. As the mother of the tribe, I’ve born the responsibility of digging deep into the depths of my creativity to avert attention and keep the little ones’ minds off of the big black hole that unexpectedly threw a wrench into our lives. No cookies, cupcakes, cakes, scones, muffins, frittatas, meatloaf, roast chickens, roasted veggies, potatoes, crisps, cobblers, pies, wonton cups, baked brie….oh my word, do you even KNOW how much you need an oven until it’s gone?
We didn’t. And we’re a family that lives in the kitchen. Our kitchen is literally the reason I wanted this particular house. Without an oven, it definitely started feeling more like a house than a home. After a few weeks, even I was getting punchy, grumpy, wondering if we’d make it. My positive spirit was waning.
But we did make it. And today, five weeks to the day our beloved old oven left us, we received a gift from the appliance gods, and our new oven was delivered.
On time, no less. We had an 8am – 12 noon delivery window, and of course expected the guys to arrive at 11:52. What time did they arrive? 8:15am. We were in the middle of First Breakfast. In pajamas and morning mess.
FIVE. FREAKING. WEEKS. Without an oven. My tribe swarmed around the new inhabitant with love and intrigue.
I am happy to report that my little tribe feels complete again. We can go back to our twice-weekly afternoon baking sessions. Our homecooking repertoire can go back to normal. And I, the mama of the tribe, have a full, happy heart and am ready to welcome our new oven into our home with open arms. Thank you, appliance gods (a.k.a. Sears).