How could we so callously go out, fifteen minutes before cat lunch?
“Fine, fine. I’ll just keep adding the demerits.”
They were all tucked up and snoozing.
It never hurts to keep them waiting for their snacks.
They are always more appreciative when they are hungry.
Otherwise, it’s
“Ew. I don’t like this one.”
“We had this yesterday.”
“Yuk. This is shite.”
Or they just walk away, rolling their eyes.
Usually, we offer early lunch if we are going to be out.
But why wake the little dears?
We had a mission.
It was not intended to be a photographic expedition.
For some time we have been experiencing problems with the electrical circuit breakers which were periodically popping. Or whatever circuit breakers do. Break circuits, presumably.
Not awfully convenient, though I appreciate that they serve a purpose. Like making sure the house doesn’t burn down, which admittedly would be even less convenient.
Our very efficient electrician had retired.
Curses.
Having received a recommendation, we decided that any request for help was unlikely to bear fruit in the period between Thanksgiving and the New Year which is a time when people seem to stagger about in a stupor.
At the best of times, in these parts, requests for help are not exactly received with enthusiasm, let’s say.
So we would wait. In the meantime we made a couple of adjustments to place less of a workload on the circuit in question.
Which basically negated needing help.
So that was fine, till another breaker started to pop.
This problem was harder to figure, but employing my skilled powers of observation, I narrowed it down.
Each time the breaker popped, Grant had been opening or closing the microwave. Admittedly, it would have been hard not to notice, because every time it happened, he was trying to heat his food, and voiced rather colourful protests.
The last time this happened, a few days ago, Grant re-set the breaker only to hear it pop again. And this time it wasn’t just the breaker that popped.
There was a “poof” from behind the microwave, which put its lights out permanently.
We purchased the thing only four years ago. Maybe it needs a part replaced? In order to find out, Grant would have to pull the thing out of its harness and then what?
Maybe we could find someone to look at it. Maybe a new part would fix it and maybe it would be obtainable.
Too many “maybe’s”.
In the long run, it would be cheaper and certainly a lot less hassle just to purchase a new microwave.
It was late in the day, so we would have to improvise in the meantime, which featured sandwiches for supper and oatmeal cooked in a frying pan the following morning.
(We didn’t have a saucepan, a sad situation.)
Getting our defunct microwave replaced would involve finding a new one that would fit into the space above the stove and finding a person to assist with the installation. This had proven to be a project four years ago, that involved a lot of hammering and drilling and cursing the person who had installed the previous device for having made such a mess of it.
I mentioned “counter top” and left the idea to germinate.
Experience in the past has taught me one thing. If you think of a solution in any situation, rather than exhaust yourself trying to convince a man, just get them to think it was their idea.
At Home Depot, we located microwaves and Grant asked the man in charge if the brackets for a new device might match up with the old.
“No!”
A man of few words. But I’m sure he was right.
Wanting no part in the decision-making, I stood aside.
Observing.
The negative gentleman left someone else to help us find a unit that would at least fit into the space above our stove.
They scanned the boxes searching for dimensions:
“You’d think they’d put them somewhere obvious!”
The helper twisted his head, searching the side of a box.
Silently, I stepped forward, pointing at the box front:
“Is this something?”
“There it is!”
And I stepped back.
“Do you have any units we can actually look at?”
Our helper took us round to the next aisle and pointed.
“When you find what you want just tell the guy there.”
Nobody seemed terribly keen on making an actual sale.
Grant was still scratching his head about the installation, debating whether he could find someone to help him.
And then:
“Bugger it. Why don’t we just get a counter top unit?”
What a sound idea.
And we now have a saucepan.
Untried, but available.
Would it help at all if I told you we just bought a new microwave and it blew up three weeks later?
Oh dear! I hope it was a counter top one that didn’t involve all the installation? And I hope it didn’t literally blow up?!
It was counter top and zapped all round the door seal. Immediate refund and free collection!
Wow. Someone could have been hurt. I should hope they did collect it! Over here, of course there would be a law suit.
I would never have a microwave ‘built-in’ to a unit. I have only ever used them on a counter top as they are easy to move around and clean, and the hot food does not have to come out at a height. Glad to hear you managed to make it seem like his idea. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
Your kitchen utensils sounds like ours here in our East London home … we have only the bare essentials. Which means we must sometimes be very creative when we prepare meals 🙂. But we never go hungry to bed … so, it’s not really a problem then, isn’t it? Love your photos (though it wasn’t intended to be a photographic excursion – my thanks to the late microwave)!
Oh, you are a clever woman Carolyn 😉.