…Have you ever looked under your stove? I’m not suggesting you should, I’m just saying that it’s an interesting thing to do, anthropologically speaking.
Lately my pilot light has been on the fritz. My apartment came with a Regan-Era gas stove with an electric starter, and for the last few weeks I’ve been having to light it with a match because the starter is sparking so weakly. Today the manager came to fix it. He wasn’t able to—he has to come back Monday with a part—but in moving the unit away from the wall to check the connections he did inadvertently unearth a time capsule of the history of my kitchen. Pens from the Clinton administration. A piece of a plate I broke four years ago. Petrified ginger. Cat toys purchased at stores that don’t exist anymore. And a champagne stopper I’ve rummaged through my kitchen gadget drawer for on so many New Year’s Eves I can’t even count.
No wonder the stove didn’t work right. It was barely on level ground.
Now that I think about it, the kitchen hot water faucet is a little wonky, too. I hate to think what’s in the pipes.
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