Our old microwave oven died. It was sad because it died in the line of duty. Halfway through the reheating of Charlie’s spaghetti, mid fling of sauce to roof, the microwave began to spark. Quickly we realised that was not good in the big Not Good way. We turned it off (because we are geniuses!) and opened the door. And there was the burning electrical smell that signed the death warrant on our sturdy, well loved, well used, year old microwave.

A microwave oven that is more than a year old is living on borrowed time.

Shiny new enormous evil. (Matchbox for size comparison. I was going to use my phone for the comparison but then I needed the phone to take the picture. I didn’t think of that until I’d set up the shot. True story.)

I think I’m more than a little annoyed that it was just a few days after I’d just cleaned all the globs of crusted food from its insides. It went down shiny. I carried it down to the dumpster and pitched it in. No ceremony.

Jed ordered another on Amazon. He’s done really well the last couple of weeks. We had to get a new kettle and a toaster – he scored both on Amazon and they’re both amazing. Jed is getting a bit annoying with the whole “I am Amazon King! Look at this fantastic kettle. Look at the incredible toaster!” So naturally he decided his brilliant Amazon skills would provide us with a new microwave that would be far better than any we could buy anywhere else.

After suffering two days with no microwave (which is terrible if you have teens, because you can’t heat a hot pocket without a microwave, and therefore eating is over and teens are hungry and they then eat all the other food and leave evidence of it all over the bench), the new microwave arrived.

I am sure this thing will kill us all in the night.

It is enormous. I’m serious. I’m certain Jed didn’t realise how big this thing was when he got it, because things are not life-sized on the internet. It takes up most of the kitchen bench. I could fit the Thanksgiving turkey in there. Or a small child. It’s weird where your mind goes in these situations.

Jed handed me the little booklet of instructions that came with it. After I threw the instructions in the bin, Jed announced, “Let’s cook something!” And for the life of me, after two days of no microwave and missing it so badly, I couldn’t think of a thing I needed to cook, so he got some leftovers out of the fridge and decided to make himself lunch at 4pm. And that’s where the truth became known.

Food went in the microwave, door closed, buttons pushed. The light came on, the timer began. And it was SILENT.

“Oh, it’s quiet isn’t it?” Both of us staring in the door at the spinning plate.

“Is it working?”

“That’s like, scary silent. Like a kid’s pretend microwave. It’s too quiet. When it finishes heating, I wonder if it will make a massive DING sound? That is kind of like all the noise it’s supposed to make, all saved up for the end.” (This truly is how my mind works.)

“It would be tricking us. You know, so silent you forget it’s in there, but then it scares the crap out of you with its almighty DING.” If I were a microwave, that’s how I’d work. But it didn’t make a big ding sound. Which makes me a little bit scared of it. This massive, silent beast is sitting in our kitchen, heating things. Cooking away. I am certain that “Enjoy your meal” on the little screen is silently followed with “while you can” because that silent beast is cooking up more than just food – evil little plans on how to destroy us all.

So we have a new microwave. But I’m keeping an eye on it, and if we all wake up dead in the morning, then you guys know what appliance did it.