Microrave

A few nights ago, after a long day of doctor visits, cleaning, cooking, and facebooking, I decided to relax with my favorite kettle corn and a book. At my advanced age, this is one of my favorite nighttime pastimes. Never, in my wild, ill-spent youth would I have believed I'd be content with a book and popcorn, but there it is. I have joined most of my peers in boring, sedate old age. Alright, alright, I hear you all - I'm not sedate.

But I digress. Back to the kettle corn which I put into the microwave. I listened to it merrily pop as I got into my flannel nightie. But when I tried to remove it from the microwave - and this is really the whole crux of microwaving, the removing - the door would not open. I called my spouse for help. Picture, if you will, the two of us - I in my nightgown, he in his sweats, I armed with a fondue fork, he with a butter knife, as we pried and banged and jiggled. Nothing worked. The door remained firmly shut. I could smell my kettle corn, so near and yet, so far. I went to get the big gun, ie, the hammer. Percussive maintainence has often worked for me. I gave the door latch a couple of good whacks. I heard the microwave chuckle as I whacked my thumb.

That didn't work either. There was only one thing to do and we sucked up and did it. We went to K-Mart and bought a new microwave. Let me just say here that this is not my favorite way to spend an evening. My favorite way to spend an evening would be to be getting a massage while on the phone to my agent telling her I simply could not fit another book signing into my schedule. I'm just saying...

So we hooked up the new microwave and put the old one, still containing my perfectly popped kettle corn, out on the curb. The next morning, it was gone. Who in their right mind, upon seeing a microwave oven disposed of on the curb, takes it home? Who thinks, "Oh, someone left a good microwave on the curb. I could use that!"?

I can only hope they managed to open the door and enjoyed a fine, if slightly cool, bag of kettle corn.