Bathtub Blues

           I have made progress in life, really. I’m no longer spreading newspapers on the kitchen floor, spraying caustic, lye-based, skin-searing cleaner into my oven, and then 20 minutes later on my hands and knees with my bright yellow rubber gloves (and breath held) wiping that cleaner out with 1,000 paper towels.

          Now I’m living large, with my lovely wall oven – good news for my knees.

          And my oven is self-cleaning. Except I’m too much of a wuss to feel comfortable about jacking it up to the 500+ degrees necessary.

 

         So I go old-school: baking soda and vinegar, backed up by SOS scouring pads.

Pretty much just as effective, without scary heat or smells.

          Living the condo life can mean a convenient wall oven, but I do have a bone to pick with the original owners – the ones who opted for two showers instead of at least one tub. There are times, like after a long day of gardening, when I’d like to lower myself into a bunch of water for a long, relaxing lounge.

        

  And I wonder if they realized that they'd be leaving the next owner with nowhere to soak the #!* oven racks.