I finally cleaned my oven. I have managed to NOT use the oven all week because I was putting it off. I've never cleaned an oven before. However, I never really the oven as much as I have since I've lived in this house. At my old apartment I used the oven to store some of my pots and pans.
Return 20 minutes later and kneel in front of the oven. Umm, how the hell am I supposed to reach inside the oven with the door in front of me? Yes, I actually thought that for a moment before it dawned on me that I should go on from the side. One thing I hate about cleaning is how I end up totally dirty in the process.
So I reached in with my damp towel, feeling the grit underneath- ick. Wipe.
OH MY GOD.
It wiped up- breaking apart the grit, cut thru that bitch like it was dry sugar on a plate. Of course the towel was black but holy crap. I folded the towel to use the other side, and wiped down the middle. It was like fucking warm butter, if you were to do that sort of thing. I was so excited I actually said, "ohhh gaaawddd."
I rinsed the towel, excited to finish. I wiped it clean, wiped the sides, the rack, the broiler. My oven is as clean as the day we moved in. I was ecstatic. Almost giddy. It's like finding the g-spot of house cleaning. You just want to do it again. I can't wait to do it again.
I even showed it to SR and he replied, "Damn baby, that's good." Seriously, it was THAT good.
I think, somehow, the cake tasted even better too.