Ever heard of a coil on your stovetop exploding?
It happened to me. I was cooking regular ol’ comfort food: chocolate pudding in a saucepan on one of the burners. Whilst I was stirring, luckily with a non-metal stirrer, in the quiet solitude of a meditative evening, the pot exploded and sent boiling chocolate pudding to the four corners of my kitchen. The shock of pudding erupted into a geyser of white light to the ceiling, breaking the sound-barrier. The ceiling looked like a monochromatic Jackson Pollack painting. All surfaces, contents of all opened cabinets, etc. Floor too. Chocolate residue.
Luckily, the saucepan had a non-metal handle, too. After I washed it, I discovered a seared, ragged a gaping hole the size of my little fingernail in its bottom. Perplexed as to the origin of this occurrence, I googled. Not the first time this has happened, they say. I called one of my wizard/ inventor electro-knowledgeable friends. The coil is ceramic, encasing two wires; a positive and a negative. When there is a hairline fracture in the ceramic, as will happen over time, the two wires make contact and boom. The sound was like a shotgun. I almost had a heart attack. My heart was racing, I was short of breath: I was petrified.
I felt lucky to be alive. What if my son had come home from college a few days/weeks later and found me on the floor, Dead By Chocolate?
I got a new stove.
Footnote: The saddest part of the whole experience was that I couldn’t even eat the pudding — it had become distastefully texturized by little tiny black pieces of charred potmetal. Sigh.
I still love m’ chockit’ puddin’ tho.’