The timer on my stove is busted. It's been busted for about a year.
Now it’s dead.
You know the thing that you set and then it buzzes when whatever is in the oven is appropriately burned?
Yeah, that thing. I killed it.
For about a year it was just buzzing whenever the hell it wanted to. Out of the blue.
I would then just go and turn it off. Sometimes in the middle of the night I would wake up to the buzzing. It got progressively worse, and I began to really have to fiddle with the thing to make it shut up.
There were times when I’d come home from work and the buzzer was blaring and poor Jack was meowing and I'd be thinking like HOW LONG has he had to listen to that damn thing buzzing? All day? Poor Jack. [No wonder he pukes in my shoes all the time.]
A normal person would have called the Superintendent about it, long ago.
A NORMAL person!
But me, I have just put up with it for a century.
And so, last night I was sitting at my desk and all of a sudden → BZZZZZZZZZZ the thing starts buzzing...
I looked over at the stove and said to myself...... "No more!"
I went over and with my bare hands literally RIPPED the entire front face of the stove off, where the clock part lives.
All the wires were exposed and all. At the time I cared NOT how it was all going to be re-assembled, if ever. In this pre-surgery state, the buzzing was even louder. Agonizing.
Frig the anaesthetic.
I opened the kitchen drawer and got the trusty flathead screwdriver and I stabbed the living hell out of the entire buzzing apparatus thing. I stabbed blindly, over and over.
The buzzing sort of stopped and started and stopped with my repeated jabs, so I felt around back there and actually found the actual buzz dealie. It was quivering away, wanting to buzz every time I let go of it.
So, I shoved the screwdriver in there and twisted. It was brutal, yes. Like, I twisted the life out of the thing, bent it straight into hell. But you have no idea the satisfaction. The silence. My God, it's over. So over.
I looked down at Jack. He was nodding in approval of the murder.
And amazingly, the whole shmeer popped right back into the front of the stove.
Like, you would never know what had just gone on!
Popped right back in there, good as new.