I've been in my apartment for just over three weeks. It's nice. I gotta say, I enjoy living on my own again. I've missed it. You know, the freedom of having your own bathroom. Not having to share the remote control with anyone. Everything on the DVR is something that I wanted to watch, not some obscure Trading Spaces clone. Plus, I don't have my mother barging in and making sure I'm home by curfew.
I'm kidding, by the way, I didn't have a curfew. In fact, I never had a curfew, even growing up. But I digress.
One of the benefits to renting a place from the school is that maintenance is taken care of by them. This is helpful because I have been having problems for the last two weeks.
My oven is sub-par. The first time I tried to use it, it worked fine. A few days later I turned it on to preheat... nothing happened. So I called maintenance. They came and replaced the heating element and it worked just fine. So that night I cooked some chicken nuggets. While they were cooking, I heard some popping sounds. I was slightly alarmed, but nothing was on fire, so my concern lessened. Days passed. I used the oven again. When I turned it on, the fuse blew. So I flipped the switch in the box and it came back on. Fine, I can handle that. This leads me to tonight.
I wanted to heat up a pizza. So, of course, I turned on the oven. Blew a fuse. Flipped the switch... nothing. I tested the stove top, that's fine. But the oven light won't come on. Not even the indicating light to let you know that it's heating up. Nothing inside works. So now I have to call maintenance again to have them fix my oven.
I just don't want them to think I'm an oven-killer. Maybe it's a sign. I should only eat things that can be cooked in a microwave.