Not so easy...

So, after sending off my latest book to my editor and after chatting with friends on line, I was faced with two prospects – one - editing or two - cleaning the oven. Oh hard…

When edits land in my inbox I look at them and think – well crap. I am very lucky that I have two excellent editors. They’re problem is they have a less than excellent writer to deal with. So I looked at the edits and then looked at the oven. I figured the oven would be easier to deal with because I rarely, if ever, cook in it. In theory it would require no effort at all. Wrong.

Yes, I am aware you are supposed to read warning labels when spraying toxic oven cleaner but really who does? I’m against instructions and labels for I believe it interferes with my karmic flow or maybe that’s my chi – whatever – I don’t read instructions because I know everything. No, really I do and if I don’t then – well – I don’t need to know it. Yes, it is very tiring being me. So, back to the toxic cleaner. Handy hint – don’t spray it willy nilly or your will fall on you arse when your feet hit the slippery residue on the kitchen tiles. Hint number two – do not stick your head in the oven to make sure you cover all surfaces at the same time as you spray. You can die that way or at least have to sit out on the back steps and cough a lot.

The thing that really got me was how dirty the oven was. Seriously? What the hell had I cooked in there? And when? I am a devotee of the microwave. Yes, I can cook. I just prefer not to because it’s just plain wrong. Why? Because I can’t follow a recipe because once again I don’t believe everything the recipe says is necessary – how much sugar? Oh no, we’ll go half that and only a third of the butter. And apricots in it? I’ll want almonds. So, I rarely cook. I would have to have some major inducement to do it. This brings me back to why the oven was so dirty. I have a theory. Someone sneaks in and cooks when I’m not at home. I suspect it‘s some demented homemaker who cannot abide a kitchen not being used. Now I would not mind so much if they cleaned up after themselves and maybe left something for me to nuke in the microwave after work.

So, the moral of the story. Nothing is ever as easy as it looks.

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