And then, things got worse

"Do a little food blogging", I thought. "It'll be fun".

Fie.

It turns out, I am cursed. Not only have a team of irritating mice laid siege to my kitchen, but now I cannot use the oven. Well, I could try, but if I did I would get blown up.

I know this because my lovely neighbour banged on my door, in a panic that I was dead in here, because she'd been able to smell gas fumes all the way down the stairwell and traced it to my place. I'd been using a bleach cleaner for a few hours, and so didn't really have a sense of smell, but once she led me down the hall and back -- whew. Very evident. I am immensely happy I did not turn on any of the stovetop burners in that time, and promptly threw open all the windows to let the gas out (and snow in, unfortunately. Bad timing).

So my new project is now trying to get the range replaced (pictured is same model, but not actual stove). The unit is so old that the manufacturer cannot identify it, and it is so weirdly configured that a contractor sent in by my landlord to okay a replacement just stood there and gaped in awe.

"I never seen anything like this," he murmured, running his hand along the pitted chrome.

"I think it's older than I am," I supplied.

He stepped back, gave the entire kitchen a once-over, and then proclaimed "I dunno. You probably have to redo the whole kitchen to fit something new in here."

Excellent. My kitchen is about 1/4th of all my apartment's square footage, and the idea of unloading all the cabinets and having to store everything in closets and flee the building for the entire thing to be knocked out... Well. I am not filled with glee.

Hence the grinding-to-a-halt-ness of the cooking. The job market continues to be just as awesome as the nightly news tells you, and efforts to stave off spending by staying indoors are starting to do my head in. Also, my parents are coming to visit this weekend. Hope they like toast.