Wednesday, November 19, 2008

For a long time, I've suspected that the microwave-safe dishes my grandma bought me for Christmas three years ago (at my begging) weren't as microwave-safe as they claimed.  For one thing, if I ever had to nuke anything for more than, say, a minute-fifteen, I had to put on thick gloves to handle the plate for about ten minutes--and the food itself would always be somewhat less than ideally warm. 

Today, I have confirmation.

Hungry, I put a frozen cordon bleu on one of my plates and put it in the microwave for the standard three minutes while I started my daily pitcher of frappuccino.  Just as I was filling the blender of milk with ice, the "I'm done!" beep went off, and I told the microwave to hold on just a moment, knowing that in about fifteen seconds I would hear an impatient, "Hey! Idiot!  I'm done, remember?  Get your arse over here and open me up!" reminder beep--always annoying.  Just as I was closing the freezer door...


With trepidation, I opened the microwave door.  Supporting my still-whole cordon bleu, half my pretty red plate was shattered. 

Behold, the aftermath:

Don't be fooled by the large shards... there are many tiny splinters to clean up, too. 
Why do I get out of bed?

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