Domestic problems

Every time I think I'm actually grown up, something new pops up that I've never encountered before. And when it's all over, I think to myself "OK, now I'm really grown up." Last weekend's example: lighting the pilot light on my new stove. Let's start from the beginning. I was super excited for the stove's delivery, because 1) my old stove was broken and covered with rust and who knows what else from previous tenants; 2) it took at least a week of rescheduling delivery dates before it actually arrived, and; 3) I was getting plain old sick of using the microwave to cook everything. I come home after work on Friday and it's sitting there, sparkling white and brand new. I check the burners and warm up some soup. Perfect.
By Sunday, I decide to cook for real, and I "warm up" the oven. One problem, though. I open the door to put in my food, and there's no gush of escaping hot air. Nothing at all. And I notice a small sticker near the controls: "Important. Oven pilot lighting instructions located on inside of oven door." Sure enough, inside are six steps to a working oven, and to my dinner. Step number one tells me to remove the oven door by pulling it off the hinges. Simple, right? I think, you've got to be kidding. How in the world am I supposed to take off that thick door? I pull for a couple seconds, then call my mom. Pull a little more, and talk to my dad. I get a good grip and it finally comes off surprisingly easy. Out come the racks, followed by the metal bottom and I'm staring at the pilot, or at least it's what the instructions say is the pilot. Our family stove is electric, so my experience with gas stoves is minimal. This is probably why when I think of "lighting the pilot" I imagine the whole apartment exploding into flames. My mom apparently does, too, because she insisted I keep her on the phone line while I did the operation. We're probably both guilty of watching too many movies or special investigative news shows. "Did you know there's danger lurking in your kitchen? Tune in tonight to find out how to save your family from a killer oven."
I probably don't have to tell you there were no fires, not even a small poof as I held the match up to the pilot. Just a small flame that I never want to light again.