Apologies for being gone so long. We’ve been in the process of moving, and it’s been taking about as long as it’s been since my last post.

We are currently in an apartment, waiting for our new house to be released from the banks. It will be a glorious house with a glorious yard and a glorious kitchen.

But right now, I’ve got the kitchen from hell.

At least it’s got all the pieces that make a kitchen — sink, stove, oven, fridge, and even a dishwasher, and a microwave. And it’s even got more shelf space than our old house, when we weren’t using the linen closet as a pantry and had four extra bookshelves for more storage brought in. This does not help.

The stove makes me want to throw things. It’s an old electric coil burner stove. Once something gets too hot, there’s no way to cool it down short of turning everything off and waiting fifteen minutes. Better yet, if you’re running the oven at the same time as the stove, the stove doesn’t cool at all. The heat just radiates up from the oven. Ugh.

And there’s nowhere to set something that needs to cool; the countertops are that awful vinyl stuff. We’ve had a tile kitchen, and we’re going to a granite kitchen, so why would you need massive numbers of trivets? You wouldn’t — unless you were stuck in this apartment.

All of which means that a simple breakfast of poached eggs, toast, and grapefruit this morning — which I could make in my sleep on my old stove — resulted in my having to throw out two of the three items, and I’ll give you one guess as to which I only had to prepare once. And then burned myself trying to pick up a pot lid I’d set to cool on an unused burner — because there was still heat radiating from the oven.