BLEACH, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?
I just had to check to see when I moved to the duplex I live in now -- it was almost eight years ago. I thought it was more like six, but, no, I moved in June on 2005. One of the very first things I noticed when I moved in was that one of the burners on my stove wasn't level. I was already irked that -- for the first time in my life -- I had an electric stove. I really don't like them, and it's STILL difficult to judge how hot the burners are. I think most people agree that gas stoves are preferable for people who like to cook.
Anyway, that one burner was so annoying. Of the four burners, that was the only one that was a large one -- and it is the one that I use most often. But if one cooked, say, scrambled eggs? All the egg mixture would pool on one side of the skillet. It was like cooking uphill. I don't know what the angle of the tilt was, but it was substantial. I tried to press the burner element down. I think I must have tried that at least one a month, every month ... and then moved on when noting budged, uttering a snappy phrase that would not be met with a kind smile if said in polite company,
A few days ago, a light bulb in the kitchen burned out. There's a large etched glass disk-like lamp shade that always collects its share of dead moths -- and, as it's close to the stove, a greasy film. Since I've had a recent plague of drain flies/gnats/fruit flies, etc. (I think after a couple of MONTHS, I might have finally defeated them a couple of days ago!), the number of dead things up there was probably well over a hundred (I should probably look up more often). It was like Custer's Last Stand up there. I scraped the dearly departed into the trash can and had to wash the greasy film. I had bought some cheap, generic cleaner a few days before, hoping that one day I'd get up the energy to tackle some hard-to-clean surfaces in the kitchen. That cleaner ... wow. It worked instantly. I looked at the bottle. The word "bleach" was in great big letters. I stood there and thought that, you know, I've never really used bleach very much -- it's always scared me a little bit. My surroundings are on the grubby side. Not horrible, but nowhere near sparkling -- and certainly not sterile.
As I looked up and admired the (now-sparkling AND sterile) lamp shade, my eyes traveled to the stove. I grimaced. Even when it was "clean" (which was rare) it was still grimy. I decided to tackle it with my new best friend, bleach. And, again, it worked like the miracle bunch of chemicals has routinely worked in every household but one that I've lived in.
From there I couldn't stop. With some trepidation, I actually washed the walls around my stove. Maybe people wash walls all the time, but I can't say I've ever washed a painted wall in its (visible) entirety. I've long cursed the person who thought it was a good idea to paint a kitchen with one-half-notch-above flat paint. Things spatter, things drip, etc. -- and flat paint is not a good surface for such abuse to be cleaned off of. But I trudged ahead and it worked! There are still signs of grease spatters (...I promise, I'm not deep-frying every meal), but they're much fainter now. And the cabinets (glossier paint, thank god) ... beautiful. So, I'm on a weird cleaning spree. This is something which rarely happens. I think I might be on schedule with the locusts.
But back to my stove. When I was cleaning around the burners, I wondered how people replaced the aluminum ... um ... pans? Liners? I'd seen them for sale, but I could never figure out how you changed them. I tried prying one up. As it came up it, it dislodged the burning element. And then I realized the element was removable -- it plugged in and out. The whole world probably knows this, but I had no idea. Like I said, I've never lived with an electric stove and had no idea how one worked. I removed all the old grungy burner pans and bought new ones at the dollar store, and now that stovetop is a palace! Gleaming! AND ... even though there some sort of structural defect with that large burner, I managed to push it all the way down and now I can cook things without everything pooling on one side of the pan! Hallelujah!
And I owe it all to bleach.
Now if I can only figure out how to clean the scary, scary, SCARY oven!
Anyway, that one burner was so annoying. Of the four burners, that was the only one that was a large one -- and it is the one that I use most often. But if one cooked, say, scrambled eggs? All the egg mixture would pool on one side of the skillet. It was like cooking uphill. I don't know what the angle of the tilt was, but it was substantial. I tried to press the burner element down. I think I must have tried that at least one a month, every month ... and then moved on when noting budged, uttering a snappy phrase that would not be met with a kind smile if said in polite company,
A few days ago, a light bulb in the kitchen burned out. There's a large etched glass disk-like lamp shade that always collects its share of dead moths -- and, as it's close to the stove, a greasy film. Since I've had a recent plague of drain flies/gnats/fruit flies, etc. (I think after a couple of MONTHS, I might have finally defeated them a couple of days ago!), the number of dead things up there was probably well over a hundred (I should probably look up more often). It was like Custer's Last Stand up there. I scraped the dearly departed into the trash can and had to wash the greasy film. I had bought some cheap, generic cleaner a few days before, hoping that one day I'd get up the energy to tackle some hard-to-clean surfaces in the kitchen. That cleaner ... wow. It worked instantly. I looked at the bottle. The word "bleach" was in great big letters. I stood there and thought that, you know, I've never really used bleach very much -- it's always scared me a little bit. My surroundings are on the grubby side. Not horrible, but nowhere near sparkling -- and certainly not sterile.
As I looked up and admired the (now-sparkling AND sterile) lamp shade, my eyes traveled to the stove. I grimaced. Even when it was "clean" (which was rare) it was still grimy. I decided to tackle it with my new best friend, bleach. And, again, it worked like the miracle bunch of chemicals has routinely worked in every household but one that I've lived in.
From there I couldn't stop. With some trepidation, I actually washed the walls around my stove. Maybe people wash walls all the time, but I can't say I've ever washed a painted wall in its (visible) entirety. I've long cursed the person who thought it was a good idea to paint a kitchen with one-half-notch-above flat paint. Things spatter, things drip, etc. -- and flat paint is not a good surface for such abuse to be cleaned off of. But I trudged ahead and it worked! There are still signs of grease spatters (...I promise, I'm not deep-frying every meal), but they're much fainter now. And the cabinets (glossier paint, thank god) ... beautiful. So, I'm on a weird cleaning spree. This is something which rarely happens. I think I might be on schedule with the locusts.
But back to my stove. When I was cleaning around the burners, I wondered how people replaced the aluminum ... um ... pans? Liners? I'd seen them for sale, but I could never figure out how you changed them. I tried prying one up. As it came up it, it dislodged the burning element. And then I realized the element was removable -- it plugged in and out. The whole world probably knows this, but I had no idea. Like I said, I've never lived with an electric stove and had no idea how one worked. I removed all the old grungy burner pans and bought new ones at the dollar store, and now that stovetop is a palace! Gleaming! AND ... even though there some sort of structural defect with that large burner, I managed to push it all the way down and now I can cook things without everything pooling on one side of the pan! Hallelujah!
And I owe it all to bleach.
Now if I can only figure out how to clean the scary, scary, SCARY oven!