“Yes!” I exclaimed when I spied the Nesco roaster on the basement shelf.
A hand-me-down years ago when my father downsized from a house to an apartment, I’d only used the cooker once—for a chili dump party on Halloween. I thought I’d donated the small appliance, but was delighted to find my memory wrong.
Here’s the thing….
It’s Thursday and I’m hosting an Easter meal…in three and a half days.
My oven is on the fritz. I know from past experience there’s a problem with the igniter. The oven’s eight years old, on its third igniter, and needs number four. Can you say lemon?
For months, I’ve known there’s a problem baking. With each consecutive use, the appliance takes longer to reach a set temperature. Last night 350° took 45 minutes and a new clicking noise heightened my concern for Sunday’s dinner.
I’ve been pouting—ignoring—and working around a problem with a microwave, grill and crock pot.
Better options? Hmmm…call for service, order the part and try to fix it, purchase new.
I knew something had to be done…and I chose to pout and look away.
Now doesn’t that just sound ridiculous?