I know what you’re thinking: This photo is evidence of another expensive home appliance door treated like a trampoline by an autistic child seeking deep pressure stimulation.
Nope. I broke it. Me, me, me.
Wide awake after two hours of sleep last night, I decided to make the best of it. I became (trumpets blare) the Incredible Fix-It Woman. Armed with my fancy socket wrench set, my battery-powered screwdriver, and a complete set of multi-colored duck tape, I set upon my house, room-by-room. Platform bed sagging to the floor? No more! Closet door off its track? It’s back! Holes in the wall? Patched them all!
And then I saw it: the ultimate Fix-It Woman project. You see, I pride myself on my preternaturally clean kitchen. Once a week, I scrub and disinfect and shine every surface. And every week, I lament the one surface that remains streaky and unkempt: the insides of my oven door’s double windows. For years, I have shaken my fist in impotence, unable to figure out how to get my Windex-doused chamois in there.
But at 2 o’clock in the morning, I was Fix-It Woman, and no challenge was beyond my reach. I examined the door and saw that it was held together by just two large, black screws. Hah! No match for my trusty battery-powered screwdriver. Why hadn’t I seen this simple solution before? My heart aflutter, adrenaline pumping through me, I took out one screw, then the other.
Apparently (and had I read the oven’s manual I would have known this), the oven door is all spring-loady and complex in its attachment to the oven. And had I looked closer at the door, I might have noticed that, in addition to those two large, black screws, the door was attached at several other points, many of them secured by small screws to brittle pieces of plastic. All of which snapped into small pieces when the door fell off.
Oh well, what’s done is done. I need to kill ouch and call the repair guys. Who will ask what happened. And I’ll tell them:
"My son did it."
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