In an uncharacteristic burst of good will and charity, I got out of bed at 6:15 to make eggs for Steve  before he left for work. I've never made him breakfast before and thought that I would freak him out by doing the traditional, wifey thing. But when I opened the fridge, I got hit with an awful smell. Everything was hot. Really hot in there. The fridge thought it was an oven. 

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