Originally Posted by Lindy

The first Christmas after I got married, (I was eighteen) my husband gave me a kitchen stove. I had mentioned, just in passing, in a casual conversation, about the stove in our apartment being a gas stove, and that I had grown up always using an electric stove, and really liked them better. So Christmas morning at my dad's house, with siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, etc. I open up this box, and there is a little toy stove (clever, I'll admit) with a note that a real one would be delivered the next day. I know he was trying to give me something that I wanted, and it cost a fair amount of money, BUT . . .
We lived in a small rented apartment, and a regrigerator and stove were furnished by the landlord. Over the next three years, we moved three times, each time having to explain to a landlord that, while we needed a refrigerator, could they please remove the stove from the kitchen, because we had our own. When we got divorced and split up our belongings and I moved out, I told him he could keep the ****ing stove.
But it wasn't over yet. Three years later, after I was living a hundred miles away, I got a call from my dad that while no one was home, the stove had mysteriously appeared on his front porch...

Lindy