Have you ever used one of those electric stoves? You know, the one with the totally flat range top composed of circles that magically become quite hot with the turn of a knob. Those things are crazy. You see, I’m housesitting this week, living abroad in a cozy little house in the country with two extatic schnauzers for good company. I’m sitting here staring at said stove in said house and wondering how I can possibly explain to you why I just called a stove “crazy”. Every time I look at that silly stove with those sneaky, innocent looking circles, feelings of strong distaste swell in… well, in whichever part of the psyche hate tends to swell in. In my second sentence they’re magical, and now all of a sudden they’re sneaky. Oh my. But I think my distaste for this magical, sneaky heating apparatus grows from a seed a bit deeper than simple stove prejudice…(those with stove prejudice issues should at this point stop reading, and attempt to find a blog that deals directly with such issues.) At home we’ve always been users of good old gas stoves. The ones that burn real fire on top, blue though it may be. Aha! Fire. Perhaps I’m just a hopeless pyro, but c’mon, you just gotta love fire. Fire’s got the drop on creepy circles any day in my book. It’s more original. So if I have my logic correct, that means that the electric stove currently grimacing at me in mutual distaste is seriously lacking originality, and I have good grounds for despising it right? Crazy stove.
The creepy electric stove and I will have to get along this week, and I’ll just have to put up with tea sorely lacking the originality and fireyness of being boiled over real flames… I think I’ll hug the cozy gas stove when I get home.