Microwave, microwave...

…wherefore art thou microwave?

These are troubled times, my friends.  There’s a recession, we’re all grumpy from the Daylight Savings Time switch, and the fashions this season continue to be blah, gray, and paper-sack-esque.  Dark times have befallen all of us.

But my times are darkest of all.  However bad off you are, I’m WORSE.  You might not have known how hard things are here…I’ve tried to keep a stiff upper lip.  I’ve done my dang darnedest to rise above my own challenges and dramas and continue to be a good listener and friend to all.  But know this now…I’m in a bad, ugly place.

Woe is me.  Woe is all the heck over me.

“Why?” you might ask, filled with shock and awe.

I’ll tell you why.

Since January, I, Mama T. Mormon - wife to one, mother to three, friend to many - have been utterly and completely MICROWAVE-FREE.  No nuking is going on here.  No quickie baked potatoes as a snack.  I cannot look in the small, opaque, double-paned-for-my-safety window and ask, “What do I see?” There is no microwave-popcorn popping for me.

I’ve tried to man up on this one. I’ve been all, “Ohhh - let’s see how much we can save not using microwaveable veggies for dinner!” I’ve learned how to use all my stove’s burners at once.

People - I’ve popped the Hungry Man meal in the TOASTER OVEN. And have I whined? Complained? Cursed the microwave gods?

Oh no - I haven’t.

Until now.

I spent weeks and weeks waiting while my (dear, sweet, mildly detail-obsessive) husband went to his Hunter Man place - aiming to bring me home the very best microwave at the very cheapest price.  Of course, the best ones weren’t in stock at ANY store in East Mormonville.

Nor were they readily available on-line.

But we persevered. And finally, one was delivered.  For a fee, of course.

Then, our installer’s father had a heart attack, so we had to wait a full-on week until he could make it to us. The nice part of that was that we were able to use the box the appliance was in as a sort of console table in the front hall to collect things. Polly Pockets enjoyed playing there a great deal. I believe I dusted it only once.

Finally, our installer friend was able to steal away from the ICU unit long enough to help us.  I only had to rearrange 3 or 4 things for that to be do-able. And it all was going swimmingly - except that the microwave was way too small for the hole over the stove. At least we only had to pay the delivery charge.  And the shipping and stuff. Maybe a fee to dump the old micro. But that’s all. Not too much.

We were back to the proverbial 50% power button - only to find out - basically, we needed to upgrade our expectations. No cheapie micro was going to fit in that behemoth space.

So we special ordered. And waited, and waited. And paid the bill in advance. And waited.

Today - allegedly, there is a microwave in for us. But no one can seem to find it at the store.

So hear I sit. No microwave. A lot of money gone, and no microwave.  

It’s March folks.  The last time I nuked something was back in JAN-U-ARY! If I don’t get to radiate some product soon, I’m going to lose it. And not in a cute George-W-when-he-got-tongue-tied-giving-a-speech kind of “lose it” fashion. We’re talking I’m going to go full on insane if I cannot heat up a Hot Pocket stat.

You think you’ve got problems? You don’t know from problems. You want to see a hard life? Come live here. Know hardness.