Well. Since moving in the cooktop has, by degrees, given up the ghost. I wonder what this means with regard to the health of my hearth.
What happened was: the glass cooktop is a unit bought by IKEA six years ago, and during the move it got cracked. I covered one heating element with a plate and continued to cook. One by one, the elements all stopped working, like lights slowly going off on a stage. Last week the final smallest, most furiously hottest one (I burned two chocolate puddings on it even while being very careful) gave it up.
The oven still worked, so I was making lots of roasts and potatoes and salads. That works, too. For a while. The loss of cooktop was the perfect opportunity to get back into Raw Food...an opportunity that I let slip by.
Tomorrow Carsten will come and put in the new cooktop and we will again have heat. Thank the gods! The hearth will be back on fire. I feel a sort of ancestral guilt for letting the fire go out in my house. I would have quite happily trudged hours to the peat fields if that is what it would have taken, but instead it took a weekend jaunt to IKEAland and a wait for the technician. But soon all will be in order again.
