When the scheduler called yesterday to say the delivery guys would be here this morning, I mentioned that the old stove was vented through the floor. “Oh, that won’t be a problem; I’m sure they can handle it,” she said. I didn’t believe she was right. Those fellows bring things in and take things out; there is another group that does things more complicated than putting a plug in the wall. I figured I had better take preemptive measures.

Understanding the idea of looking from one floor to another through a gaping hole, uou might not think it but when I finally saw it, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been working for close to three hours to free the big, strong, black steel exhaust pipe from the kitchen range to the conventional round vent pipe on the other side of the floor.

That baby would have come out without a bit of trouble had I: 1( been the person who installed it and 2) if it hadn’t been covered with grime so that you couldn’t see the little-headed but very strong screws that held it firmly INTO THE OLD THICK WOODEN FLOOR. Then there was the screw on the other side of the floor that secured the exhaust pipe to the vent pipe, and it was covered with that kind of silver tape that sort of melts into the surface when it gets hot. Scraping that gunk off was a lot of fun, really . . . over my head, at an angle to the ladder, up by a joist and amid cobwebs.

I am salvaging the old range because I think it has possibilities and in a few hours two men are going to come and but a black, shiny LG range in it’s place. I DO NOT WANT ANYONE TO TOUCH THIS APPLIANCE.

LET THEM ALL EAT COLD CUT SANDWICHES!!!!!

Whoa, someone out-AmeliaJaked AmeliaJake*. I don’t usually write book reviews because reading is such an individual activity, and because I wrote enough of them in school. Occasionally, I will feel obligated to comment that a book is really bad, unless you want to read for the purpose of finding a way to transfer an emotional need to barf into an actual one.

However, I just finished reading a review of a book that most readers agreed was a “good story” but also agreed with one long-winded and nit-picking reviewer about the exact use of words regarding it being women’s historical fiction about someplace in the South. Yes, the capitalized South. Heavens to Betsy, that one Southern Belle took the author to task for every little nuance, citing the fact that she had lived in that area and, by God, it wasn’t exactly the way she had understood the language of the area and era.

It was a STORY set in an historical time. From what I could tell, the gist of the background was correct, it was just these little miscues that were a sin against people’s eyeballs, not to mention minds. It was not a historical scholarly paper. Most of the people who thanked the lady for dissecting the writing, mentioned that they were also from that exact area. Yeah, they said, he was a good story but, uh, you can’t make a verb a noun in that part of the country.

There are a lot of little piranhas out there in reviewerland and to mix a metaphor, some of them deliver their bites with the annoying, repetitive knocking of a woodpecker at two o’clock in the morning.

* AJ can be scathing, as those who witnessed her “dud” analysis a few years back. Gee, reminding myself of that day, I feel as if I am back in the car, spouting off, “Dud! What a dud. A real dud. A dud. Dud!!!!” And that was before we had even cleared the parking lot.

You don’t want to know, but part of it involves taking a kitchen range apart and putting it back together and part of it involves standing on a woodpile with an extension pole to reach a spot that needed to be painted.

Part of it also involves a shifting in the house Internet network coverage and my constantly being dropped. I found myself looking at the screen and saying BAD WORD IT.

I have pictures of the wiring of the range – lots of pictures, so I could keep track of what went where. They would bore you, although you might be surprised by the sheer number of wires involved. But the putting it back together was the interesting part; if it were a movie, you would be watching from behind the sofa, peeking over at the suspense every few seconds.

When I threw the circuit breaker back on, the problem still existed and I was actually not overly upset – I was relieved the stove came on and everything worked as it had before. It didn’t throw off tons of sparks and set the house on fire. Of course, this means I have an old stove with probably some switch/circuit malfunctions.

I have a plan, but I’m keeping mum about it because, well, you’ve read about my other antics and I don’t want you to worry. It does not involve a chain saw.

It has been very pleasant this week, with highs in the mid-70’s, but today it warmed up to 78 and it may be warmer tomorrow. This would not be bad except I think I am getting what would be my first cold in a long time. Couple that with a possible UTI again and I am feeling like I want to wrap myself up in a blanket with a heater on when I am outside in the sun. This is annoying. So I am aspirin girl and tomorrow I will go for a urine test. Yes, too much information; I know, really I do. Bladder pain, chills and sneezing can make you just let it all spill out.

I WANT SYMPATHY. BECAUSE I’M A NAMBY-PAMBY WUSS.

They say confession is good for the soul . . . but it isn’t helping my bladder.