Why is it 450 degrees in my house?

Let me narrow that down to, "why is it 450 degrees in my kitchen?" If you guessed, "Because your roommate left the oven on," you are correct! You get to come on over and turn the oven off. He must've had it on for 2+ hours, because he just put it on when I went to do laundry, and I got back around 6, when I saw that pizza box on the counter. I swear, this place has probably come close to burning down around 4 times, but every time I feel like Denis Leary in Rescue Me and save the day.

Is it sad, or smart, that I sometimes pretend I am on a phone call when I go into the kitchen and he's in there? I say, if I just go in there and ignore him, I make him feel less of a person, so by being on a fake phone call, I spare him those feelings. Maybe, just maybe, my last day in the apartment will consist of me talking on a fake plastic phone to see if he can tell the difference.

Anyway, he's been out of a job for weeks, interviews, and still can't land a job. I have no idea where he plans on living in September, nor do I care. I do care about getting my security back, and knowing him, he'll break down the door frame trying to get his couch out of his room.

Anyway, enough of that. I will stop bitching about my situation that will clear up in a matter of weeks. As for now, I need to make some dinner, which means kitchen time. I think I hear my phone ringing...