"Come on, what did you do? What is that smell?" I asked.
"We don't smell anything. I think you're crazy (guess who says that)."
I knew I smelled something and hopefully someone would fess up.
Today, as the girls were making breakfast, Kiera yells upstairs to me and says her french toast sticks weren't warming up. I asked her how long she put them in the microwave. She says, "40 sec, then 20 sec. then 5 sec. then 12 sec." Breathe. I asked her to bring her breakfast upstairs for me to check. They were still frozen. Breathe.
Then she confesses,
"Last night I wanted to set the kitchen timer on the microwave for 40 mins. But instead of the timer I just heated up nothing for 40 mins. But I stopped it after 17 mins."
Great.
"I'm happy that you told me what you did but next time just look at the clock and see what time it would be in 40 mins. or come get me for help." I was nice. The microwave died. It wasn't really her fault. After all, the microwave was 15 years old. We got it when we got married. It lived a good life.
Now I have to buy a new microwave. I really didn't want to buy any appliances or anything for the house until we moved (selection, color, size, etc.). Plus the old microwave will be taking up room in the storage room along with the rest of the stuff we are throwing out for the next year until we move. We actually have to pay big bucks for someone to come and pick it up. I'm only paying it once so might as well be a good size load.
