2 Italians and 1 Oven


 My apartment is crooked. I knew this. You knew this. 

Hell, I tell everyone about it because I think its charming. Plus, in the event I drop anything that rolls... I know where to look for it. How many people can say that is a feature of their apartment?

Well, I didn't think my beloved crooked apartment would be the reason that my oven stopped working.... but according to the two Italians I had banging on it tonight.... that was the reason. Getting my oven fixed is obviously great, now I can bake to my hearts content. Entertain friends and enemies. I might even explore what all those 1950s dials do on the top on my stove. I think they might be helpful if I was learning to fly a plane, there are that many options.

A few highlights about the experience:
  • "Joe" my landlord told me he'd come by at 4. He came by at 7. He brought another "Super Italian" named Michael. Michael seemed thrown off by my initiated handshake. Is this an Italian thing I don't know about?
  • Michael proceeded to use my floral screwdriver to literally bang around inside the oven. I'm not sure what this accomplished.
  • Michael announces that he needs "wood". Joe goes something like this "I don't have any. What? Let me look in my crystal ball!" Then he looks at me for a laugh. I give it to him. I'm a sucker. Michael then suggests Joe go into the alley for wood. (Yes, the alley). He goes and Michael rolls his eyes at me.
  • The wood appears and its too large. Michael breaks it in half with his foot in the hallway. Who needs the hammer I offered anyway?
  • Oven is fixed! Michael tries to teach me how to use an oven because I apparently look like an idiot. Joe makes me show him that I know how to use it. I oblige.
  • All 3 of us stand in the kitchen like its a game to see who talks next. Joe decides to show off the new wood floors he installed*. So I give them a tour of my beloved apartment. Michael decides the threshold is too weak and shows both of us by jumping on it.
  • Michael notices my iPad (otherwise known as Mr. Darcy) and asks "is that one of those.... uh... you know those things?". I proceed to show him that it is in fact one of those things. Joe interjects that Michael's kids are so destructive that they'd break a crowbar. He looks at me for a laugh. I give it to him (again). I'm too nice.
Yep, that was essentially my Thursday night. You can't make these things up and yet, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.

I did "recover" from this experience by making myself a bath and playing Angry Birds in the tub. It seemed appropriate.

**Remember when I moved in and the wood floors were not done.... and there was a saw in the livingroom? Well at that time Joe told me that the person he "hired" got hurt on the job.

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