Something is wrong with my oven. It has ceased to get hot. Ceased to cook.

I had Friday off work, which was so nice. I worked last weekend, and after putting in a million hours in a two week period, I was ready for a 3-day weekend. I thought I’d stay home Friday and do laundry (of course), in between cleaning and working on a project of mine.

By 10:30 a.m., I decided I needed a haircut, so I went to see my friend Cheryl at Slayton Beauty Shop. Her shop also houses the Read It Again book store, so it was a great way to spend soe off-time. Then I ran to the grocery store.

I decided I wanted to make a nice supper – a roast, mashed potatoes, broccoli, gravy and some crescent rolls. Nummy, right? It can be hard to cook nice meals when you work a million hours a week, so I thought I’d give it my all on a day off.

I popped the roast in when I got home. Within an hour the house smelled great. Shortly before Eric got home I was peeling potatoes and cutting up broccoli. Jeffrey (the dog) was dancing around my feet while I worked in the kitchen, singing along with the soundtrack from "Glee" and tossing the mutt tidbits now and then.

Eric and I chatted in the kitchen as I made gravy from roast drippings and steamed the veggies. Then I put the crescent rolls (from a tube, I’m not THAT ambitious) on a cookie sheet. I started slicing the roast, which smelled like heaven, and had everything ready to go. I was just waiting on the rolls.

Twenty minutes later, the darn things still weren’t golden brown. I pumped the oven up to 400 degrees. Ten minutes later…nothing.

OK, it took me longer to figure it out than it should have, but I finally noticed the oven wasn’t nearly as hot as it should be. We gave up on the rolls and ate. Good food.

Eric looked at the oven later and decided either the fuse blew or the element is fried.

This morning, Matt headed out the door to go to work, and I reminded Eric about the oven.

He acknowledged the problem, and promptly left to go ice fishing. His priority at the moment was fishing, not food.

Any guesses on how his priorities might change when he gets home tonight and there is no supper?

I guess he’ll have to take me out to supper. Hmmm…not a bad plan, either!

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