Mourning a machine?!

When we moved from our condo to our townhouse almost 8 years ago, the one appliance we needed to purchase was a microwave. Condos included 6 appliances and townhouses only 5!

My mom decided to give us her old microwave as a temporary solution until we bought something that we liked. With so much happening with the move, my mom wanted to help in her own way. It made sense to not have to worry about one more thing!

Like most things in my home that stay put once placed on a flat surface, the old microwave did too! The machine was older than my marriage.

A couple of years ago, the part that we push to open the microwave door fell apart. Wisdom would predict that that was a good time to purchase a replacement; but laziness or resourcefulness, depending on perspective, dictated otherwise!

I found that I could put my finger into the empty space, that was left after the particular part broke, and push this little metal “spring like something” to open the door. So, if the microwave is still functional, why make the effort to replace it?!

For a couple of years, the setup drove almost everyone crazy. The boys and I, on the other hand, got mighty comfortable with where exactly to put a finger in and what exactly to push! Craigley did not protest much and was strangely supportive!

For my birthday, 2 days ago, my brother surprised me with a new microwave. Yesterday, he came by and made the switch. He didn't trust me enough to actually make the switch. For all he knew and he knows his sister only too well, the box would have remained unopened indefinitely.

So, I have a well-reviewed and spanking new microwave sitting on my kitchen counter. It will take some time getting used to this new machine.

Perhaps my brother sensed this weird sense of loss in me, he assured me that he had to replace my microwave because his wife was afraid that one day her finger would be zapped by the unknown metal piece somewhere deep in the dark gaping space where there used to be a safe plastic “pushy thingy”! Bambino needed to deal with his wife's mortal fear and ensure future visits to my home were met with appropriate standards of safety and sanity.

I guess I took a bullet for the team, but I am allowed to mourn my machine!