Not again

Women are never satisfied.
When we were in France Jan bought this range type hob and oven. It had one very big oven, big enough to roast an ostrich, which was a pity because we never roasted ostriches. In fact we hardly ever roasted anything mainly because it was too hot and also because Jan's first excuse when putting food on the table was that it was over cooked on the bottom because the oven cooked from the bottom up.
I never quite figured that one out but couldn't be bothered to argue about it cos what would I know, I'm only a bloke.
Anyway, she now has a similar size range but this time with two ovens. She has always wanted two ovens, presumably because she can cook twice as many ostriches as long as you like them cooked from the bottom up.
Not for the first time, yesterday I was sitting eating my roast breast of ostrich and asked her highness what was still cooking. Nothing dumbo (or similar) was her reply.
Unable to contain my curiosity and also being the kind of bloke who learns from his mistakes I forayed into the kitchen to find one of the ovens burning merrily away. I say this because this was not the first time.
Us men might be inferior creatures but generally speaking we (OK me) have a tendency to learn from our mistakes and not keep repeating the same thing over and over. I'd have thought that the stench of carbonising ostrich fat would also have been a clue but again I'm only a bloke.
The situation has now got to the point of me now not saying, good morning, as we wake each morning, but have you turned the oven off.
She doesn't like that.