Woke up at six-something this morning and stumbled sleepily upstairs to be awakened abruptly by the sickly sweet odor of GAS! MY GAS OVEN'S GOING TO KILL ME! IT'S GOING TO KILL ME! I'M DEAD!
Having grown up with electric ovens that turn OFF like NORMAL things when you're not using them and don't have tiny, insidious spurts of gas oozing out all the time ready to KILL you if their pilot lights go out, I am majorly freaked out by gas appliances. Okay, so at home our dryer and heater were gas, but they never threatened to kill me. My oven now likes to scare me every couple months, spreading gas across the living room and convincing me that the spark that turns on a light switch will erupt in a huge fireball, and any attempt to relight the pilot lights will send me to a fiery grave.
Though it was better than those two times in Chapel Hill when I was awoken by an overflowing toilet.
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