Our old stove exploded last night. Or more specifically, the aged and brittle tempered glass that covered the oven door did. Mr. Tin Foil got up to get some water; he didn’t turn the light on because he didn’t want to wake me. He walked into the kitchen and hit the oven handle with his thigh, which because of his balance at that point spun him into the door. His knee was enough force to shatter the fragile glass, apparently. The POW! woke me up in time to see glass shatter everywhere.
Above is our ‘new’ stove. It’s 3 years old, bought from a family with six kids who upgraded to a much larger stove. This has been (mostly) Mr. TF’s labor today, getting it installed and properly adjusted flamewise.
I like it! I hope it lasts as long as our previous stove did; while we only had it for 4 or 5 years, it was made in the early 80’s and 30+ years is a long time for that glass to last.
ETA: Mr. TF did most of the work getting this up to speed; I kept out of his way. Which is unusual for me, because I feel obligated to help in a project like this. What else was unusual is that we did NOT have any arguments during this whole thing! Maybe I should stay out of the way more often…?