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Calling Elvis

November 27, 2007
(Hey, D’Arce, call Elvis!)
Well, actually, I wasn’t calling Elvis. I was calling on every other deity, sometimes in not-so-nice terms. What a night. The pilot light went out in the oven. After I had had it on for a good 20 minutes. I noticed a slight gas smell, and then realized that I didn’t hear the usual hiss of the oven being on. Sigh. Open up all the windows and doors, ask my neighbor to help me find the pilot light, get the oven back on (this took much more time and frustration than I would have thought possible), then close all the windows — wait, pull out all the window-draft stoppers that have fallen through the windows — swear a lot, get real real mad, slam my fingers in drawers..

You get the picture. One of those nights. But hopefully the lasagne will be worth it. I almost threw in the towel and ordered Chinese. But no, I have to get it done.

Sometimes I hate being a Virgo.

Also, I am so mad that I didn’t think of this first. I LOVE this idea. Shoot. Maybe I can do an American version… so adorable…

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