We finally broke down and bought a new range, since our old one has been on the fritz for the last eighteen months. The last couple of times I used the oven, it pumped the smell of gas throughout the entire first floor. I don’t think that’s normal. Or safe. In nine days my new range will be here.
I have always loved perusing the gas ranges in the appliance department. Especially the really expensive ones that I won’t even be able to think about purchasing until after the book that I haven’t written yet hits the New York Times bestseller list. Or I win the lottery that I don’t play.
Of course the range we finally chose after deliberating for an hour was about two hundred dollars more than I wanted to spend. I have never shopped for a stove before, so I didn’t really know what to expect when we arrived at the store. I am really excited about a new feature that allows the parent to actually lock the oven door so that a small child who decides that he just can’t wait any longer for the cookies to be done won’t be able to do anything but wait for mommy anyway.
That element upped the price a bit. I did the math though, and I figured that preventing a child from scorching their body or melting their skin into little puddles was worth more than one hundred dollars. Piece of mind is priceless. And while we were at it, an extra fifty for a fifth burner didn’t seem so bad. Yes, I am the proud owner of a five-burner gas range.
The other cool thing about these newer gas stoves is that the bottom drawer is no longer the broiler, which means that I’ll have a smidgen of extra storage space. Now that’s something to get excited about!
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