A Tale of Four Microwaves

There are currently four microwaves in my house.

I feel like this is a metaphor for life in the Morryce household. Then I figure I’m probably over-thinking it. Who knows?

Why four? Well…

We had one, a normal little white on-the-counter microwave, that had replaced the unit we brought when we moved. It got the job done, but just barely. Then Dad, thanks to his work connections as an appliance installer, procured us a larger black microwave. Still on the counter – now taking up a third of our countertop real estate – but decidedly more powerful than the first. We were always burning things.

Mom didn’t like using up so much counter space for a microwave, so Dad was instructed to keep his eyes open for an over-the-range style. It took about a year (most microwaves are replaced when they’re broken), but this past month he managed to get one: when we purchased a new range and fridge this past month, we also got a new microwave (which I didn’t realize all came together until Mom told me). This new microwave was a little smaller than the black monster on the counter, but just as good operationally, and it had a fan and a light. Now we were in business.

Y’know, once we were able to get in the habit of reaching up instead of over to nuke our food.

Just as things were settling back into some sort of order and Dad was figuring out how to get rid of the old units, the over-the-range model went psycho and died.

It’s been hanging there for two weeks, mocking us, while the black unit sits under the kitchen table and the little white unit gloats from the corner of the countertop.

And I’ve come to the conclusion that if I need to use the microwave to make my food, it’s not worth it. Unless I’m at work, where I don’t have any other options.

Then, this morning, I tore downstairs to complete my morning routine as quickly as possible and started when I saw a white over-the-range microwave sitting in the office. Had I missed something? Had Dad finally taken down the dud unit?

No. There it was, still hanging there.

“Uh, Mom? Did Dad get another microwave?”

“Yes,” she huffed. “I don’t want a microwave on the counter.”

I cracked up. “We have four microwaves in our house.”

She did not look amused.

Of course, there are lessons to be taken from this saga of the kitchen appliances. I’ve decided that I’d like to keep the number of appliances in my own – theoretical – kitchen to a minimum. (Have you heard about the Instant Pot? That’s practically the only thing I’d ever need.) I’ve learned how to make do and adjust – sure, it’s just a microwave and we could and have managed without them, but the lesson remains. And, as always, I’m learning to laugh at the absurdities that make up my world.

Goodness knows I need that particular skill.

And yes, this is all I have to blog about right now, unless y’all want to hear my theories on what types of animals my friends and family remind me of.

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