I can't fit into my washing machine. I now know this. And even if I could fit in there, I know I can't turn it on from the inside. This may seem obvious, but I wasn't sure. So I made sure. Now I know.
I can, however, fit into my fridge - but it's cold in there. If I take all the trays out I can get in and close the door. But it's cold, god damn it, and it's dark. That lovely little light bulb dies as soon as you close the door. This also may seem obvious, but I never really believed it until the light actually went out, and the dark wasn't good in there.
I can easily fit under my kitchen table. Even before I tried I knew I could get under there, but I wanted to be certain. It was strangely pleasing down there on the tiles, roofed by thick wood. I didn't think it would be so pleasant, but you never know until you really know, so there you go.
You may wonder why I bother trying all this, but your wondering is pointless. Get under your own table just once, sit there for a while, with tiles or carpet or linoleum under your feet and wood or plastic or metal shielding you from above, and then you'll understand what I mean. I guarantee it. Once you get under the table or into the fridge or the cupboard or the oven you'll know how it feels and you'll know what I mean. It will become an addiction, possibly, but give it a try anyway.
The oven is an interesting one. You don't need to start an oven from the inside, but It's hard to find an oven big enough for an entire, fully-formed body so I can't say for certain what it's like to be entirely cooked. But I have an idea.
So, unless you're in the industrial cooking industry, there's little chance of you feeling this strange sensation throughout your whole body, and rightly so, because It's not something your body wants to feel. It's interesting alright, but it's not that interesting, if you know what I mean.
Just like getting into the freezer seems peaceful and finally quiet for once, the man-sized oven will entice you with its initial silence and serenity, before making you very, very uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable to live, in fact. Whether it's hot or cold, roasting or freezing, the feeling is much the same.
No, I certainly don't recommend installing yourself for any sustained period of time in the oven or the freezer. It can lead to problems. Unnecessary problems.
Yes, existing in the oven or the freezer will almost certainly lead to problems, the most obvious of which is your existence itself, or resulting lack of. The human body neither enjoys nor appreciates the extreme heat or cold, and we should always be aware of what our bodies appreciate. serious
By all means get under the table or into the attic or the kennel or under the porch or into somebody's fridge - which is always more interesting than your own if you can fit - but an oven is a boring place.
A fridge has food and other strange things if you pick the right one, but an oven is almost always empty and dark and quite frightening, believe me. Freezers are the same. They may have food in them, like a fridge, but it's too damn cold in there to really have a good look around and appreciate it all, and some of them - for some strange reason - have locks, and getting locked in the deep freeze is not a nice situation to find yourself in, especially when the liquid coating on your eyeballs is beginning to freeze and everything starts looking more and more misty with each passing minute. Get out.
But it's worth taking a chance occasionally, squeezing and contorting yourself into some small space that no one else has ever squeezed into, and feeling that peaceful feeling that may only last for a few minutes or seconds or hours. Or days if you're committed.
This beautiful feeling will stay with you forever. Try it. Even putting a hood over your head is pleasure enough, burying your face under your pillow to block out the unwanted morning light is that same pleasure, submerging your nose and mouth in the bath is better still.
Holding your head in your hands when you feel the tears coming - that's the perfect time to be alone in the fridge. Or the attic or cupboard or laundry basket. Escape.
Escape from everything but yourself, find that true comfort that can only be felt from inside your own closed eyelids. Find your own dark piece of peace, and then be thankful that you took my advice. But stay out of the oven.
Chris Connolly writes from Dublin, Ireland. Allegedly he is not as dangerous as he reads. His first collection of short stories, 'Every Day I Atrophy' (the SideCartel) is available now. If you need to know more about Chris Connolly, he has an excellent and excellently informative website here chrisconnollywriter.com