I turn my oven on

My gas finally got hooked up! Let us bask in the glory for one second...ok. But a cascade of bad came with the good. First, they (without asking me) moved the microwave that had been sitting on top of my stove onto my kitchen stool. So now my already tight kitchen is nearly impassable, and I can only hope my stool hasn't been damaged. Also, the non-Super called me to tell me that she spoke to Con-Ed and Con-Ed says it was my fault the gas didn't get turned on because they were missing information from me. Ha ha. Ha. Really?

I hung up with the non-Super and called Con-Ed immediately. Con-Ed assured me it was not my fault. I spoke with a supervisor just to be sure. They said they were waiting on the management company to provide an affadavit from the plumber affirming that the gas leak was fixed. Exsqueeze me? Gas leak? Yes, said Con-Ed. Someone had called to report a gas leak so my apartment and two others in the building had no gas since mid-July. Good God. Actually, Con-Ed had no record of my gas being turned on, even though it was.

This left me feeling anything but confident. I almost wished for an electric stove. I didn't touch the stove for 3 days or so because I was worried the place would asplode like big boom. But when I did my grocery shopping for the week I bought a frozen pizza and some garlic bread, both of which would need the oven. On Monday night I was able to successfully start the burners, but not the oven. I have lived with gas in my last three apartments so I was pretty sure it wasn't pilot error. Although it could be pilot light error I suppose.

Feeling helpless, I was forced to call my ex-boyfriend the house flipper. He's handy and I knew he would feel bad for me and come help. Plus I kind of wanted to show him the place - he used to live in NYC before ex-patrioting to Connecticut when he quit his big finance job. It only took 5 minutes of whining before he agreed, but only after he sassed me for another 5 minutes about how "Ms. Independent needs help."

I rushed out of work on Tuesday to meet him at my place. He was waiting for me outside of the building wearing jeans, toolbelt in hand. I gave him the tour (not like it took long) and then he squeezed around the microwave and took a look. He checked the connections under the sink and watched me start the burners. Then we both tried to start the oven - still no luck. T didn't want to touch anything because he's not a certified expert in the ways of gas stoves, but he was stubborn about figuring it out.

"Burners are working so we must be doing something wrong," T muttered to himself, playing with the knobs. When you first slid the knob, the front two burners on top of the stove would click to light, but no action from the oven. Usually when a gas oven fires you can hear it, but every time we opened the door we heard nothing.

"Maybe this is a very very quiet stove," T suggested.
"Ok, Elmer Fudd," I replied.

We left it alone for a couple of minutes to see if the oven got hot. No dice. The smell of gas started to fill the kitchen and I panicked. "Please, I don't want to die in a gas explosion like some idiot!" I told T. He just laughed and asked me to open the door to the backyard. I did, watching carefully to make sure no mice slipped in. He kept fiddling with the oven knob, then opening the door to see if it lit. Finally, he got the oven to light. He had to hold the knob at the click position longer and then slide in to the desired temperature while holding the knob in. Great! We set it to 400 and plopped on the couch. As we were walking away, I heard a dripping noise. We had no idea what it was, but I was worried.

A couple of minutes later we smelled burning. I was close to panicking. T opened the oven door but there was nothing burning. He guessed it was first-time smell. I was seriously worried about my apartment exploding, so I waited in the backyard as our dinner cooked.

In the end, everything turned out OK. Our dinner came out fine, and the apartment is still intact. Thank Goodness. Now I just need the proper cabinets for above the stove so my microwave can go to its home and I can actually use the kitchen. So close!