When In Doubt Read The Manual!

Gosh, manuals are useful after all...

Bob is the master of all the heavy stuff in our household. He schleps the heavy bags of pellets to our oven ( I have now discovered that it is a jolly long way ), he cleans it and makes sure the times are set. Like anything else nowadays, this oven has a little computer-brain in it.

My Schatzi has flown the coop to visit his family for a few days. Bob being Bob, he has left me strict and rather detailed instruction regarding the oven. As any seasoned wife would have done, I listened with one ear only. Mentally doing a ' blah-blah, does he think I am stupid?'...!

His main point, which he repeated a lot, was: " For goodness sake, don't let the pellets run out! " to which I replied: " Geez-a-lou Bob, you do know that I am a grown up? Why on earth would I forget to put pellets in the oven! "

Bob has programmed the oven to run for 3 hours in the am and 3 hours in the pm as we have to still watch our pennies. You know, blankets, jerseys along with thick socks keep us warm just as well in between. But don't feel bad for us, because when you see those poor refugees from Syria, our 6 hours of oven time per day are pure luxury. In fact, you should all try it and send the money you'll save to help the refugees...

The other evening I got home in what seemed like the middle of the night, yet it was only 6 o'clock. Our oven was set to heat from 4 pm to 7 pm and I couldn't wait to get inside our warm cozy house. That is one of the nice aspects of a cold winter. The nice wall of warmth that envelops you as you enter the house.

The minute I opened the door, I knew that the oven wasn't on. It was cold and quiet. With a sinking feeling in my heart, I ventured to our pellet oven. The display read ' Warning 508 '. Lifting the lid to check for pellets, I got the shock of my life. The pellet container was empty...oh yes, this Gal who had remembered to feed the cat, had forgotten to feed the oven.

No problem, I thought. It was a bit tricky going outside in the dark to fetch another bag of pellets
( they do weigh a ton...15 kg's ) but I managed. Now, you'll have to picture this next scene. A real blonde one. After filling the oven with my offering of pellets, it wouldn't respond or start. Gosh, I stood there swearing, begging and trying various button pushing on the control board, but to no avail.

Bob had been rather scarce on Skype. In any case, the thought of having to admit that I had done this stupid thing, was not sitting well with me. A week of shivering and freezing flashed through my mind, which would have been preferable to his " I told you so! "

...until I remembered the manual. But where did I put it? Finding it eventually, it took a fair bit of time to decipher it. Every language imaginable is in this manual but I got to the " warning 508 " section ( it seems I am not the only blonde one out there! ). A few buttons pressed on the control panel finally resulted in that much longed for sound of a pellet oven switching itself on!

Biggi