Our microwave has gone insane. The thing will not turn off. Well, technically what it does is turn itself
on when you open the door; the fan
goes on, the little plate thingy rotates.
You know, the opposite of what it’s supposed to do? As soon as you shut the door again it turns
off. At first it would only go on
occasionally when you opened the door – scared the crap out of me the first
couple of times it happened… I’d yelp, shut the door really quick and timidly
try to open it again – but now it’s constant.
Now sure, it might
just be the fan turning on, no microwaves shooting around, but it still totally
freaks me out. Every time that stupid
thing would turn on (before it was continuous) I swear my hands would feel
achy, blisters would break out, I’d feel those little sprained muscles you get
right around your joints.
(It could just be from all the drum practice and gardening
I’ve been doing but still. I feel
Keen keeps using the thing!
Just jabs his hands (and food) in really fast. Ugh.
I’m so not going there. In fact,
I’m just waiting for his hands to turn green/shoot webs/get xray vision or
something. Because even if it is just
the microwave fan not turning off… that can’t be healthy. I’m almost certain that radiation can be
stored in fans and rotating plates. (It’s,
like, science or something.)
The saddest thing is realizing how much Chance and I rely on
the microwave for our daily diet. Keen
is OK because Keen cooks. I, however, am
lacking in the cooking gene. Food that I
try to “cook” just doesn’t taste very good. (Except for baking; I rock at the baked
desert.) Chance is a toddler and eats
primarily toddler food… hot dogs, chicken nuggets, canned soup, etc. These things are so much easier with a microwave! With the microwave around I felt like a
competent and diligent mother.
Now we seem to be ping-ponging between meals of trail mix
and takeout corn dogs.
God forbid the rest of the appliances ever revolt.