At the news of the sad, sad loss of my microwave, reader Leesa asked, “What’s your secret for breaking a microwave? I’ve been trying to break ours for years in order to get a new one.”
Now, reader Sharon chimed in with a truly helpful hint: “Invite some hulking teenage boys over. They are excellent at breaking microwaves.”
Uh, if you’re looking to bust up a microwave, I think Sharon’s got the right idea.
1. Buy a repo house. Be naïve and foolish, believing that you and your beloved can clean it up, paint every surface, and make it good as new in just a few weeks.
2. Realize only when it comes time to clean the filthy kitchen that the microwave has no handle. Fantasize that the handle was ripped clean off the door during the feats of strength portion of Festivus. Try to believe that this explains why the only handle remnant is cut bolts that are impossible to remove.
3. Discover that you can jimmy the door open by lifting up and pulling. Make peace with the fact that this not only opens the door, but also occasionally causes the exhaust grill to fly across the kitchen. Go on with your life.
4. Live with said jerry-rigged microwave for almost 3 years. Always be a bit dumbfounded when visitors ask how to open the microwave. Be reminded of your trashiness. Swallow the shame with your tasty, microwaved meals.
5. Wake one cool autumn morning to find that the microwave stopped working in the middle of the night. Test the outlet. Call the time of death. Attempt to ignore your husband’s muffled sobs. Hold him as he cradles his cold Healthy Choice entrée.
6. Order a new microwave online. Try to have faith in your husband’s assertion that the 2 of you can install it yourselves. Consider starting to drink now in preparation.
And that, friends, is how I break a microwave.
I’ll keep you posted on the new microwave installation efforts. Pray for us.
We looked at a few repo houses. Thank you for making me feel better about NOT buying one. (My teen boys have yet to break a microwave, but they smear chocolate ice cream on the handle of the freezer every.single.night.)
We waited until
Ours was shooting flames. We were use to it but it upset our friend who was house sitting.
Prayers go out to you during these troubled times.
I've had a clothes dryer sans handle for 3 years now, but lucky for me a butter knife can wedge the door open and the rest of the machine functions just fine.
My Critter de-commissioned our microwave when she re-heated some restaurant bread sticks that were in a foil-lined bag. I wasn't there when she did it and she never revealed what exactly happened, but the inside of the door had hole burned into it and there was a fairly big bulge on the inside back wall. Oddly enough it still appeared to work, but I insisted on getting rid of it.
I miss the days of the gigantic microwaves that took up an entire countertop with their bulky ugliness, yet lasted for decades. These days, I'm lucky to get a full year out of a microwave, and that's with very light usage (except during the holidays, because: peanut brittle).
My teenage boys haven't yet broken a microwave but they have regularly exploded things in it, I know that because never once have they wiped the gunge away!
Please, tell me more about this microwave peanut brittle…
I may have found an out…
I sent a text to my husband, thanking him for cleaning the microwave. His response was, "It was either clean it or buy a new one. I opted to clean it…this time."
Fingers crossed I can get it dirty enough to warrant a new one…next time.
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Oh. I like you SO MUCH!
I'm new here—have seen your name at The Manor, and could not resist the lure of "sometimes stories of small-town life," for I'm addicted to those through great fault of my own in having so many, I guess.
My first microwave was a POWERFUL dude. Blew out everything in the kitchen the Christmas Night I got it, as we had all delightedly filled our plates with all those yummy Christmas Dinner leftovers and stood in line for our turn to heat the whole plateful at once.
Nothing to do but try to scrape everything very carefully, serving by serving, into a pot or pan for re-heating all together.
And my late FIL did not believe in closing the door, except to turn it on, for that's where all the wear and tear is. That thing was responsible for more grabbed-and-ripped shirts and aprons and elbows than any appliance in history.
Oh. My. I'd better go now. Too much.
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