Why won't you die?

Have you ever noticed that the things that go wrong or break in your house are never the ones that you WANT to break or die? The important and necessary things seem to go haywire while the old, crusty and annoying things are cockroaches, somehow managing to live for a week without their heads, dying only from lack of water. It’s true, look it up.

I hate, with a passion, my oven. It is old, crusty, and really, just plain ugly. Aesthetically, it stands out like a sore thumb with its bisque and black color scheme among the white appliances. Its grease-gathering pans were probably black to begin with, but are now permanently crusted with singed food particles from 1992-present. Cleaning them is futile and has been attempted, unsuccessfully.

Right out of the gate, the oven and I got off to a bad start for a petty reason. It has a stupid name--Caloric. Much like those beloved automobiles someone decided to name Yugo, Gremlin and Lancer, the terrible name is doing nothing for its already terrible image. Is it supposed to be the verb form of the word “calorie?”

“Hey, would you like a brownie, still warm from the oven?”

“No thanks, I’m watching my Caloric intake.”

“I think you just offended my oven.”

Also the word “Caloric” is a little to close for comfort to the term “Colonic.” I see very bad things on the horizon when we start confusing oven brands for the process of cleaning out your colon with water. Then, there's the fact that it claims to be a part of the "Prestige Series," which I can only surmise is the oven's attempt at sarcasm.

Then, there is the fact that it is ugly and does not match anything. Have I mentioned how ugly it is? It’s a creamy-cool mix of bisque and black and has this weird clear and striped motif going on where the knobs are located. There’s a splash of what is supposed to look like stainless steel on top, which really accents the hand-cranked timer that probably stopped working in 2001, the year I graduated from high school.

As if that wasn’t enough, it’s also missing a rack. If the oven were a person, that would be the equivalent of missing a front tooth. Oh, and if you’d like to turn on the light to see how well your cookies are rising without opening the door to let out the heat encased inside, you can just forget it. Now you’re asking for more than the Caloric is willing to supply, you greedy proprietor of baked goods! Lights and their coordinating outside switches are for sissies! When I was your age, we didn’t have ovens with lights and somehow I turned out all right, didn’t I?

But wait, there’s more! This, my dear reader, is what I like to call the pies de resistance--- the pot drawer. You know that drawer under the oven to store items that previously cluttered your overstuffed cabinets, providing both convenience and storage? Behold the Caloric’s drawer! It’s a drip tray with crumbs and a French fry from the Stone Age! Also, it’s incredibly embarrassing. That is why we always keep it in the closed position.

Why, you ask, have I not cleaned this thing out since moving in to our home almost a year ago? Me, the anal cleaner who requires objects to stay in their proper places? It’s a little thing I like to call defiant refusal. In my mind, not cleaning or appreciating the oven might make it give up sooner. I wipe off the top, but that is about it. Sure, you are good enough to cook my food, but you don’t deserve to be cleaned or appreciated in any other way. This, oven, is why you should just give up, pack up your crumb drawer and hit the road. Don’t let the door hit you on your heating elements on the way out.

I’ve even tried to make the oven look better, or even give it some sort of semblance of fitting in with everything else. My placement of pretty salt and pepper shakers and a stainless steel spoon rest would tie it in with everything else, I said to myself. You can put a nice suit on a bum, but he’s still a bum.

I’ve tried to make a case for investing in a new oven, but it’s hard to argue my case when the thing works so darn well. The Caloric quickly cooks my oatmeal for me every morning without fail. Each of its four completely functional burners boils water quickly, it cooks things evenly and the door even closes completely. Other than my refusal to clean the infamous drawer of crumbs, it’s a perfectly operating hideously ugly oven.

I’m thinking perhaps we could work out a barter system. I’ll see your crumb-infested drawer and trade you for a one-way ticket to anywhere in the world. Where do you want to go? Hawaii? Belize? The U.S. Virgin Islands? Consider it done. Heck, I’ll even buy you two seats because you obviously aren’t thin enough to fit in one. Perhaps a closer look at your own Calorics is a good idea. Desperation, thy name is unfair trade.

The other day, Adam and I were talking about something food-related and he said, “If we ever get a new oven…” I suddenly became light headed and almost fainted on the dog. IF?!? IF we decide to replace that THING living in the kitchen that has far outstayed its welcome in our otherwise nice and orderly home? I think an attitude adjustment is in order, Mister.

A simple Google search has revealed that the Caloric brand is still in existence, creating sturdy, moderately priced ovens for the great people of the world who have no style sense. The brand was purchased by Amana some time ago, but still operates under its same awesome name. It’s a relief to know that when Caloric sold out to The Man, they kept true to themselves and negotiated the ability to keep their tried and true name trusted probably by landlords and renters everywhere and whoever built our house in 1992.

As I write this, I just know the Caloric and our 16 year-old water heater are working out a suicide pact to die simultaneously to really stick it to me. Then, at the last minute, the oven will back out, change its mind, and live for another 10 years in crumb-filled bliss. As long as 9 of those years are in a landfill, that’s fine by me.