Phone call from my mother

So I picked up the phone today, and it was my mother on the other end, sounding breathless and agitated.

Mim: "Daphné, Daphné, help! S.O.S.!"

Me: "What's going on?" (I can tell by her tone that it's not life or death, luckily)

Mim: "My new stove is electronic and I can't make it work and it's SPEAKING to me in THREE LANGUAGES!"

Me: *dies laughing*

Mim: "It's not funny!"

Me: "Are you kidding me? That's hilarious! Didn't it come with a friendly manual?"

Mim: "Yes, but I can't understand it. Besides, they shipped the wrong parts so I can't even cook with it yet."

Me: "Ah. So what's the trouble? Apart from that?"

Mim: "The oven locks automatically and won't let me open it. It's telling me the temperature outside, and I DON'T CARE. I just want to know the time!"

Me: "You can't set the clock?"

Mim: "No. It gives me the choice between twelve hours and twenty-four hours, and I can't change it to twelve hours. It also keeps saying SABBATH at me in blinking lights. Sabbath-Sabbath-Sabbath."

Me: *dies some more* "Maybe your stove is possessed!"

Mim: "It's NOT funny! Daddy refuses to touch it, and you know how he is with electronics anyway."

Me: "God, yes. Don't let him near it! I'll come by this afternoon."

Mim: "THANK YOU. I bought these lovely tournedos yesterday, and now they're sitting forlornly in the frigidaire because I can't cook them."

Me: "All right. I'll be there in the afternoon."