In the mornings lately, it takes three or four tries to start the oven. My wife did not like it. I just think it is a side effect of the weather being cold. Tire pressure gauges go off in early winter, and it takes a few tries to start the oven. She was not satisfied. She asked if there was anything that could be done. I was not bright and told her that, yes, we could clean the igniter, but that is a lot of hassle. Dumb, dumb, dumb. She says that she cannot get the oven started. I remind her that it was like this last winter, and the winter before that, and then spring came, and everything was jake. She told me she found a video of a guy with a five-minute demo on how to clean the igniter on a Whirlpool oven. I have actually done this before, some time in living memory — back when I was young and had all the time in the world — but even if I had not, NOTHING lasts five minutes, but there I am, removing the oven door, removing the floor of the oven, pulling up the gas tubes and the igniter. Five minutes equals half a day. Ten minutes is a full day. An hour is a week. (EVERYBODY should KNOW this!) This is how home repairs go. And of course, we have to clean these filthy disgusting surfaces, and I am taking apart the door because somehow filth gets betweenthe inside window and the outside window. I get all that **** done and BAM! the oven starts with one try. I get kisses, but I know that I do not deserve them. At least, not yet. I still have to re-assemble this oven, and screws have disappeared into the housing. To recover them, I have to remove more housing and risk losing more screws. I get all that done, leave a few screws out because I would rather live dangerously than go screw shopping. It is all down to putting the oven door back on, and ... one of the hinges is JAMMED and cannot be un-jammed. I am online looking for a replacement hinge, while she is on the phone with the girlfriend of the Trump-supporting HVAC guy down the block, hoping she can send him over to un-jam our hinge which never should have been ****ed with in the first place. But, you know, I need machinist's tools to unjam this mofo, and I do not have them, and I go from goat to hero to goat to hero to goat, and the door is going to be off the oven all week or more as her piano students come and go, and conclude that we live like animals. And I am trying to find a way to explain to her that if I hadn't spent all morning fixing what didn't need to be fixed and breaking what didn't need to be broken, I could have stuck to what was really important and stood sentry over the Mets so nobody would sign away their closer, but somehow that line of thinking is "irrational" and "insane" and so I'm the bad guy.