dielectricly speaking

Our trusty microwave went off to Radiation Heaven just over a month ago.

And we haven't bought a new one.

I've shopped around and know which one I'd like to purchase, but honestly, I've been conducting my own little experiment to see how long we can go without one of those air-wave heating machines.

((My own running theory. My own experiment. You can add scientist to my list of capable jobs. Right next to chauffeur and bum wiper.))

Back to the microwave situation,

It's taken a lot more planning on my part. No more can I throw some frozen meat in the microwave and push the defrost button ten minutes before the husband walks in the door from work, and pretend like I've known all day what dinner was going to be.

And no more microwave popcorn. Which is fine, because that stuff is filthy anyways. We old-fashioners now pop our corn on the stove top and it tastes way, way better.

I guess the only time when we really wished we had a microwave was last Wednesday. I had made some cinnamon rolls the night before and Aaron came home from work and was readying himself one on a plate to reheat it in the......wait, we don't have a microwave. Which means he couldn't reheat his cinnamon roll. Which made us want to cry.

It was really sad.

But now when you hear of those crazy people who don't have a television in their home, you can say, "Oh, yeah. I know a family who doesn't have a microwave."

And you'll win that one-up conversation.

You're welcome.