Eulogy
Grandaddy bought it for Grandmother the Christmas of 1979. She'd been wanting a microwave for a while, and he finally broke down and got her one. You had to mash the Change/Cancel button twice, then enter the cook time. If you wanted to watch something cook, you had to manually turn on the light. It pulled so much power, that you couldn't run it and the toaster oven at the same time. It takes up half of the counter, and fills most of the space between the countertop and the wall cabinet. It's heated thousands of mugs of hot chocolate, and cooked many strips of bacon on paper towels and newspaper.
It died on a Thursday. The digital part is shot. After all these years, it just gave up. I don't even want another microwave. I've tried to look at new ones, but they don't have any character. Every time I look at it, I think about Grandmother. And then I can't bear to get rid of it.
Farewell, dear microwave. I may get a new one, but it could never replace you.
posted by Carroll @ 9:20 AM
5 Comments:
It's pitiful... I almost cried over your microwave eulogy. It had a good life.
That was the year I was born. It was a good year. I'm thinking planter......
Don't worry, we will find a pretty spot under a tree to bury it and then we can take it flowers on Dec. 22nd every year.
Are you mocking my pain???
I had one a little older than that once. Look on the bright side...death by radiation is no longer your future.
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