Sarah, aka loving known as Princess Buttgold, moved last week. The whole family assembled to help her move her stuff and clean.
I told her I'd clean her oven. In a moment of weakness when she was sick and I felt sorry for her.
I came prepared with Easy-off and rubber gloves, resigned, keeping my word.
We had to drive to Wal-Mart to get new pans to go under the burners and curtains for her new house and as we were driving she made the idle comment, "You know, Mom, I'm so glad you're cleaning the oven because that just doesn't seem like a fun job to me at all."
I replied, "Yeah, I could hardly sleep for the excitement. All night I thought, 'oh, goody, I get to clean the oven in the morning. It was like Christmas all over again.'" She laughed a little, but I think the sarcasm was mostly lost on her since she has yet to clean an oven.