About a year ago,  Alex broke our oven door. He did this by standing on it in order to do something (probably turn on the light on the range hood). I heard a curious squeaky unhappy hinge kind of sound and went into the kitchen. I won’t say “ran” — because I was sitting at the computer, which is about four feet away. We live in Manhattan, after all.
The oven door was open and hanging at a very unusual angle. I looked at Alex, I screamed at Alex, I questioned him intensively but he never could or would tell me …read more