Karma Comes Back Around

I just recently posted about how we got a new microwave and we are oh so delighted because it has buttons, right? In particular, we are happy because it has a popcorn button. That has been Lewis' dream for a while: to have a microwave with a popcorn button. It's a simple dream, but he owns it.

Naturally, when we were finally able to put the microwave up (we managed to make room on the shelf, and although we can now fit fewer items on that particular shelf, and in spite of the fact that I am certain it will all come crashing down and smash our table, it looks nice up there and it works) we wanted its maiden voyage to concern popcorn. So we threw a bag in there and hit the blessed button of popcorn.

And the microwave sparked.

Thinking there might be some metal in there, we took out the bag and inspected, both the bag and the microwave. Nothing. We put the bag in and tried again.

And it sparked again.

Crud.

We finally have a new microwave and it's sparking like it's got a roll of aluminum foil inside. Fantastic.

I immediately knew what the problem was. I had publicly dissed our old microwave, the one we got for free, the one that was donated to us by my dear, loving sister. Call it karma, the force, string theory, whatever. It had caught up to us.

The next day I decided to try microwaving something else. Maybe it just needed to settle or something. I noticed the inside could use a wash, so I stuck a bowl of water I there so I could wipe it down with ease.

And... It didn't spark. It ran beautifully, as if it were new.

What the what? You mean my "settling" theory was correct?

Hardly. I put another bag of popcorn in there and guess what? It sparked.

It's a marvelous machine, unless you want to pop corn. Then it decides to recreate Dante's inferno right over its turn table.

So we finally get a microwave with a popcorn button and what does it have problems with? Popcorn. Is that irony? Or just interesting? Either way, I've been craving popcorn ever since.

In any case, I hereby renounce any ill will I had towards our old microwave. Your knobs and lack of reasonable second intervals give you character and remind me of simpler times. You were a shining beacon of hope in our dimly lit apartment. May you rest in peace on the chair under our coat rack and next to our keyboard.