Someday, perhaps, I may get used to the electrical outlets here in Denmark. I hope I do, for no other reason than to save my sanity.
Let me explain. I've told you before about the toaster oven - the one I used to successfully charcoal two pieces of bread - well, apparently I'm equally talented when it comes to not crisping the bread at all.
I don't know if it's due to the 220V current running through the walls, or just an energy saving measure, but with every electrical outlet comes a switch. This is endlessly frustrating as the switch never seems to be in the 'on' position, even though you KNOW you left it that way. I believe, however, that I have figured out why it's never 'on'. Here is a picture of one such outlet in our home:
The big switch on the top is for the lights, and the big switch immediately below that controls the outlet. Apparently when I'm moving through the house, doing the reach-around to flip lights on, or off, I tend to also accidentally flip the switch directly below it. I didn't grow up in a 2-switch world; I grew up in an old house that had just one innocent little light switch as you entered a room. So, the absent minded swing the hand around the doorway, flick the switch, always worked. If you didn't hit the first time, you just did a little wall grope until you connected with said switch and voila, the lights were on - or off.
But the wall grope here can result in all sorts of other things being switched on or off, so, apparently, I must now learn to look before flicking.
What does any of this have to do with a toaster oven? Well, the oven has one of those little timers that works whether or not the power is actually on. So, in went the frozen rolls, temperature selected, timer set so as not to burn anything, and 13 minutes later upon hearing the wonderful ding indicating that my breakfast rolls were now hot and yummy, into the kitchen I went. Hmm, no hot and yummy here - still frozen. Because yes, while the timer did it's job and the 'ding' happened, the oven had no power and I had no breakfast, and the whole process starts again.
I guess the moral of this story is: When in foreign lands, be careful what you grope!
p.s. If you've dropped in from Strange Shores, welcome! If you haven't, head on over there to hear exciting tales from around the globe.
The blue beyond
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