CHEERS TO THIS CANKER-BLOSSOM OF GAS

Still, I cannot officially use my stove. 

I am NOT complaining here, folks. I am now amongst the 73% of people in my town with gas service restored after eight weeks.  I am thrilled to have a stove, but, honestly, I'll be even more thrilled when I can use it.

Ummmmm, okay, so I've been using the burners on top.  (Don't tell ANYONE.)  I've done nothing but boil water, so this lovely new stainless steel hunk in my kitchen is a glorified tea maker.  That's okay by me.  The ugly, scary, horrible empty space left by the ugly, scary, horrible red-carded gas-infected stove is now filled.  The only reminder of the gas fiasco is the absolute shit-show mess in my basement (hot water heater, furnace, metal scraps, pipes, tubing, dirt, empty boxes, wires, trash...).

I decide that my new tea cup will be my Shakespearean insults mug, so every time I make tea and bemoan the fact that I cannot truly cook yet, I can think back to Shakespeare's time and be thankful for little things, like electric lights, automobiles, and flush toilets.  Oh, and I can say things like, "Thou art a boil, a plague sore!" and "You rampallian!" and "You fustilarian!" and "Not so much brain as ear wax!"

I mean, if having/not-having a stove is how we're going to play this game for a few more days, I might as well take this mountain of mad flesh and be light of brain, highly fed, and lowly taught.  Cheers!