(draft written 2015_12)
I don't think there is an appliance in my kitchen that terrify me more than the microwave. Oh, no big deal, just a personalized family RADIATION MACHINE to shoot ENERGY BEAMS at food.
Everything else in the kitchen is understandable, and doesn't toe the line of magic and doom. Spinning things with blades, large things that turn electricity into heat. Other heaty things. Sure, they might burn the house down, sure I might sever a lesser used digit. But I'm not going to end up with a laser hole in my torso or a curiously growing tumour.
So it was with some consternation that our microwave/oven vent blew. Just stopped working. My buddy helped me take it down, then even suggested I open it up and look for a fuse. My comfort with hardware never goes beyond assembling components to make a computer. I don't own a solder, for instance. I know OF fuses. I know they have to be replaced when they blow, and that's it. The idea that they'd be in the Radiation Machine seemed a bit far fetched, but he opened it up and voila, there are fuses.
So, looking like, if not feeling like, the adult I appear to be, I went to the local hardware store and picked up right fuse with the right amperage/voltage/whateverage. Brought it back home and plunked it in and wow it worked.
Next morning, blew again. So, getting a new microwave, but happily have not detected any tumour growth.
No comments:
Post a Comment