at the sound of the beep

We bought a new microwave a few weeks ago, a purchase I begrudged dearly. Who wants to spend money on a useless appliance like a microwave? When there are iPods and cameras and boating equipment which could be bought with that money instead? Sad to say, I was the one insisting on the microwave purchase. Our old microwave, although only about 6 years old, had not aged well. I could deal with the sticking door button, the mysterious stains and the never-used preset buttons. But I had to take a stand when the inside started rusting. A few flakes of rust here and there? Mmmm, metallic. But the entire bottom of the microwave turning an attractive shade of streaky red? Not so much.

The new microwave is slightly bigger than the old one, meaning it does not quite fit into its alloted corner in my tiny 80s style kitchen (remember peach as a decorating choice? I do!) But this is more than compensated for by the new lack of iron in our diets. Also, it is more powerful and I can nuke the everloving CRAP out of food. Mr. A put some instant porridge in there, unaware of the power contained within its silver skin … two minutes later he was looking at scorched earth in a bowl. This was funny to everybody except Mr. A, who gloomily watched the Brown Dog eat his breakfast. Although it STILL annoys me – when DVD players are $79, how on earth can a microwaves be over three hundred bucks? Surely they’re the same thing, but the microwave just has a few more “lasers” (do the Dr. Evil air quotes … DO IT) and microwaves can’t rewind. To the dismay of Mr. A, no doubt.