Ding, Dong, the Oven's Gone!!

Once upon a time, a condo owner put a semi-decent oven range in a condo...and then never thought of it again. The range was used, abused, and never cleaned for at least three years.

(You think I'm prone to exaggeration?)

When a new owner-to-be came along, it was discovered that the poor oven didn't work...and then it was decided that the owner-to-be would get magical "cash on closing" to buy a new range.

And it was good.

The deal was done, the papers were signed. The new owner made arrangements for the gas to be turned off for a few hours, and for an ace gas/electric plumber to come in and disconnect the oven.

What they found when he pulled it out from the wall was...surprising.

Oven mitt, two pot holders, wooden spoon, a matchbox car,
two tiny plastic toy flutes, half a Hostess donut--hardened, but
not moldy--two pennies, a flip-flop, several toddler toys, way
more crumbs and dust bunnies than should be legal, and one
unemployment letter.

Admit it, you thought I was exaggerating again.

The picture of the "treasure trove" made it's social media and text message rounds. It was widely met with incredulous exclamations of "EW!" and "OMG!" and "HOW DID THEY NEVER BURN THE PLACE DOWN?!"

With the oven uninstalled and the gas line capped, the new owner was able to call in the junk removers...and for $68, they hauled it out of the condo and took it far, far away.

But first, they dropped it down half the stairs.

Yes, that is dried food on the side.

And the new owner set to the disgusting task of cleaning the now-empty space.

In every battle, there is a sacrifice. Much respect to the green
scrubbie that gave it's life.

Once New Owner had taken a scrub pad and a spackling knife to the grout, and a shop vac to the floor, the kitchen was considerably improved.

The End.