But then my oven apparently decided that 220 degrees is the same as "yeah, you can probably just pull things out with your hand if you want." Unwrap lamb, poke at it, and see that it's still raw inside. Ok, rewrap the lamb in foil again, turn the heat up a bit, and give it a bit more time to finish.
Eat the pita you had put into the oven to toast.
Eat the mac and cheese you put in the oven an hour before you thought the lamb would be done.
Unwrap, poke at it, and see that it's now completely overcooked.
Fuck.
Dump it all into plastic tubs, and declare that it's not worth fucking sorting out a solution to this, so you'll just skip to the gelato dessert.
Freezer has decided that "middle setting" is the same as "I will freeze all ice cream into a brick. And don't even bother trying to warm a spoon up, you'll just end up knocking the bowl on the floor where it'll shatter."
So whatever. I give up. Maybe I'll just eat a fucking bagel, unless my toaster thinks it can come up with a way to fuck that up. I'll warn you, toaster. Remember how you came home and there wasn't an old toaster sitting around? See the floor over there by the oven, where you might be able to make out a toaster shaped outline if it existed? Yeah. Appliances sometimes have "accidents" if they didn't come with the apartment.
- Squirrel.
- Squirrel.
- I'm not a big fan of pretzel bread, as it tends to just be super dry and hard. Still, if this came with some cheese to dip the crust into, I could see how it might work.
- I laughed at this, but that was back when I thought today wouldn't be a disaster.
- Basically, the Daily Mail is run by miserable bastards.
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