"Now what's so wondrous about your oven?" you may ask.
My answer? The fact that it's alive. That it works. That it hasn't spontaneously combusted (or that I haven't taken a baseball bat to it, which is probably more realistic).
This thing is ancient. No joke, I can say with confidence that I truly believe it's older than I am. Which is funny, since most of our apartment is newly updated (wood floors, light fixtures, AC unit, and more...). But apparently the good 'ol oven hasn't been seen as a priority before. I'm praying it dies so that our landlord will do some necessary updating. But until then, I'm left to get by with this
What's that? You don't think it looks that bad? Maybe it would help if you could see the clock and timer.
Perhaps the funniest thing about these gadgets is that I have no idea how to set them. I've tried spinning the clock to be on time, but all it does is buzz at me whenever I spin the second hand, and the time never changes. I'm pretty sure the "timer" is set by starting the time of day I want to start and finish. So funny. I've just stuck to my egg timer on the counter.
The inside of the oven isn't so easy on the eyes, either. For starters, there's only one rack (which makes baking a batch of cookies take extra long). But whatever process the oven uses to self-clean leaves a nasty, dusty film on every surface. There was a pile of dust in the bottom when we moved in. It's taken several vacuumings and lots of wipe-downs before I've felt comfortable that the food I was serving wasn't laced with asbestos.
Not that I'm complaining. I am so thankful to have a wonderful new home, and I realize any oven is a blessing compared to what so many people lack. I just find this thing utterly hilarious.
So here's to hoping that in our two years here, this thing might get the old heave-ho to make room for a more modern counterpart. But if not, I'm sure to make lots of memories with my great-grandoven.