I've beaten my head against a wall so much with this range issue that I'm seeing stars.
Stars are pretty.
I like stars.
Stars make me think of the heavens.
Which reminds me to count my blessings.
I love cereal.
I like soup.
Most fresh veggies don't need to be cooked.
I have a microwave.
I could survive.
What the Hell the rest of these people are going to eat I have no idea.
But that's not my problem.
They're all old enough to fend for themselves.
I'm as obsolete as my range.
And that's fine by me.
The fact that the oven doesn't work prevents me from sticking my head in it.
It's all good.