Story of the Day 3/ 23/ 2012 #1

My family has been living in the 1950's for several weeks.
We see everything in black and white, wear earrings that match our shoes and our purse, and have taken to wearing bright red lipstick.
Of course, since it is black and white, the color of the lipstick is just a guess, and the coordinating of shoes and wearing and purses is much easier.
The twin beds in the master bedroom were a little tough to move in , though.



Okay, actually, we are living in the 2010's , but without a microwave.
I think my family might actually prefer that I wear bright red lipstick. At least to not having microwave.

We never had a microwave until this house.
We were the last of the prehistoric people, getting along without a microwave , a toaster over a toaster or a ........ But after living in this house for a couple of years, we broke down and bought a microwave, which we sent off to college with Aaron.
The absence was felt, and we ended up with a new microwave overn- just before Passover, last year. Less than year ago.

Microwaves are convenient.

I suppose they are a bit more convenient if am not your mother or your wife, but they are still convenient.
They allow you to do things like reheat the spaghetti or the cauliflower.
Of course, you have to hit the start button and then run 2 rooms down the hall and wait until you hear the beep, which only one family member can actually do from 2 rooms away. And he doesn't live here, anymore.
And , you cannot peek.
Whatever you do, do not look at it because those microwaves will hurt your eyeballs.
And if someone visits who is pregnant, they cannot even be in the same room when the start button is pushed.
Which is why they are infinitely more convenient if I am not your mother, since those are my rules.

And that is in addition to the fact that I have it on a surge protector because of vampires. Electricity vampires, of which the microwave is one.

So, we have a microwave, or we had one, until it decided to misbehave.
In a scary manner.
Not scary to me- since I am such a neurotic weirdo that you cannot use my yardstick to measure scary, but scary to my husband who is also weird, but not nearly as neurotic, at least, not about microwaves.

I called the company, complained, made a video ( from the other room) and mailed it back to Haier to investigate what was wrong, since the microwave oven was still under warranty.
Oh, and of course, I wrote a Story of the Day about it, on 1/ 25/ 2012. How coudl I not?

After listening to my description of the problem, which was recorded or typed or preserved on a brass plaque by the phone representative, I received a call from the company. They wanted me to box up the unit and mail it to them.
They promptly sent me a bright orange set of labels, and a number to call for pick up , and I slightly less promptly , sent it back to them. Well, it took a few tries to get a box that it and a lot of bubble wrap would fit into.
After playing with the microwave , and I also hope their mothers have insisted they run down the hallway after pushing the button, Haier let me know that the poor little thing had died.

It was defective, and they were sending us a new one.

Except, they didn't.

So, for weeks, we have been living in the 1950's , without being able to conveniently nuke our leftovers.
I have been okay with this, although, I miss the exercise.
Not that I got a lot of it. I usually do not nuke leftovers because I am hungry, but also lazy and I don't' want to run down the hall when the microwave is on; so I just eat things cold.
Like chocolate.
Chocolate is always good cold.

But it has been driving the more athletic members of the household nuts.
My husband and daughter are sure they are losing weight despite not participating in ", several times a day, because they cannot reheat things they want to eat.

Unlike me, they will not just shovel any old thing in their mouths.... I have even seen looks of disgust on their faces over the idea of eating macaroni and cheese cold.
Not sure why, but....

At any rate, at least 6 times in the past 5 days, my husband has asked about the microwave.
Sarah hasn't.
Why ask when complaining is so much easier?
So, today, upon being asked by my husband, I called .

The lady got my information from the computer.
She read it out loud.
Twice.
Then she starts telling me that she is very sorry; she can see that I sent it in, that it was approved that they send us a new microwave, that the order was approved, but ...it wasn't sent.
She repeats herself. She is very sorry.

She will email the place that ships things.
Their warehouse, which is probably in the United States, to save on shipping costs,
unlike her call center, which is in some foreign country, judging by her quaint use of English phrases and the fact that she keeps repeating that she is sorry.
She is very sorry.
She repeats that, again.
I think she thought I was going to yell at her.

I can't do that.

It is 1956 in my house, or maybe 1958 , and I have my red lipstick on, and my matching earring and shoes. I do not have my purse over my arm,because I am in my house, but I cannot yell.

I am not sure they were allowed to yell or get huffy in 1956 or in 1958, either.
I wasn't alive then, so I cannot be sure, and there wasn't yet any reality TV, or video cameras on school buses showing children having sex in the back of the bus, or ...... I wonder if pot had been invented yet?

And if you are old enough to let me know what there was or wasn't, that is very nice, but it is too late to let me know, now, that they did actually yell in black and white, because I have already hung up the phone with the lady.
After I told her thank you.

At any rate, the delay is giving me at least another week break from running back and forth and up and down the hall every time someone pushes that start button.