Life with an Oven Window

Here’s a screenplay pitch (boy, I’m getting so L.A.): a young man lives for years without an oven window and then suddenly he moves into an apartment with an oven window. Are you sold yet? The oven window allows him to watch cakes as they cook so he doesn’t have to open the oven to check on them, keeping the heat trapped inside. It also allows him to watch chicken turn golden brown, vegetables sizzle on a baking sheet as they roast. Ok, ok, what if there’s a wacky neighbor played by Jack Black? A villainous oven repairman played by Vince Vaughn? You’re not sold. Fine. Maybe this works better as a memoir…

…”Life with an Oven Window.” A young man’s journey of self-discovery as he transitions from a life of not knowing if his cookies are getting too dark to a life of always knowing if his soufflé has risen. Perhaps the oven is a metaphor for the soul: unless you illuminate your oven window to the world, no one will ever know the true you. And if you’re roasting beets, they’re a metaphor for your heart. And golden beets are a metaphor for your kidneys.

The point of this post is really this: I have an oven window now and I really like it. Should you want to make a documentary about that fact, my agent is waiting for your call.