Okay, for those of you just tuning in, we have averted a disaster in my house. Yes, we have a new microwave. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t cheap. Heck, we could have starved to death before the microwave arrived, all bright and shiny at our door.
But we have a new microwave. The family will survive.
Of course, this is all thanks to me. After all, I am the one who killed the old microwave. I mean, if this were Law & Order, all they could charge me with would be involuntary manslaughter. But I did kill it. Apparently, you should not cook brown rice for 45 minutes in a microwave.
Who freaking knew? I mean, yes, apparently that little nugget of advice is in the manual, tucked between the ever helpful “troubleshooting” and “tips for tasty food.” But honestly. Who reads the manual for a microwave? Anybody? Show of hands?
Oh, fine. Everybody but me reads the dang manual. Whatever.
At first Harry did not believe the microwave was dead. That’s because he is an engineer. They don’t believe any inanimate electronic object really dies; it just rests until an engineer comes along to fix it. Also? He couldn’t believe any human on the planet was stupid enough to cook brown rice for 45 minutes in a microwave.
So the first day after the microwave died, Harry took it out of the cabinet and set it on the kitchen table. And on day 2, it was still sitting on the kitchen table. I dusted it, just so it felt better about sitting there. On day 3, the microwave was still sitting on the kitchen table. And day 4, when I looked at the microwave sitting on the kitchen table, I said to Harry, “maybe you should look at this thing.”
What I was really thinking was, “for God’s sake, man. We’re living like pilgrims without a way to reheat coffee. Look at the damn thing, figure out that it’s well and truly dead and let me run out and buy a new one.”
So Harry sat down at the kitchen table and got to work. Just so you know, fixing a microwave involves a lot of swearing. Also? A ton of huffing and puffing is involved, as well as a few mutterings under your breath about who really broke the damn thing and why isn’t she fixing it. I tried not to take that last part personally. You know, since it’s true.
And an hour or so later, Harry declared the microwave legally dead.
And that’s when a miracle occurred. We went to the local home improvement store. Within two minutes we found the perfect microwave. Okay, in all honesty it only took two minutes because it was the only microwave that would fit in the cubby.
Once home with our new toy, Harry huffed and puffed and did a bunch of swearing and got that microwave into the cubby. And then he proudly peeled off the wrapping on the front to discover a giant freaking dent the size of a head right in the door of the new microwave.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to work out for Harry, in case you were wondering.
So he huffed and he puffed and he put the dang microwave back in the box and took it back to the store.
And I found a microwave online and paid for expedited shipping. I don’t know if we could have handled one more day of cold leftovers and lukewarm coffee. So yesterday, when the microwave arrived at our door, and Harry installed it, we all gathered round to watch it heat water.
Once again, our family will eat. And yes, I did read the manual. Um, and Harry also bought me a rice cooker. It’s very pretty. I’m not sure how it works, though, so I just stuffed it in the back of a cabinet.
After all, I have a microwave. It can cook anything.Add me to your rss reader | Become a Fan on Facebook!