Your Un-American Ways Shouldn't Make Me A Murderer. Just sayin'.
Big V always leaves the microwave door open just a crack.
I have no idea why.
I've asked.
He has no idea why. At one point he tried to reason, "That way it's ready for when you want to put your food in."
Except then I pointed out that you still had to use one hand to swing the door all the way open since it is not left open wide enough to squeeze a whole plate through so it's technically not ready at all. I also pointed out that it drives me absolutely crazy to walk into the kitchen and see the door to the microwave open just a crack like someone wasn't strong enough to shut the dang thing.
Then he pointed out that it doesn't seem to bother anyone except me and he's pretty sure there are other families across America who leave their microwave doors open and perhaps I'm just un-American.
And I took those to be fighting words because I am most certainly not un-American. I joined the Army, remember? And then I pointed out how he has never served in the military so maybe he's the un-American one in this relationship and then he asked me if I remembered whether or not to pay Lawnmower Timmy which had nothing at all to do with the fact he un-American-ly leaves the microwave door open so I scowled at him. And he is getting really good at masking his fear because it seemed like he didn't even notice.
So, I decided to take the high road. Now every time I walk into the kitchen and see the microwave door open a crack I sigh in an obnoxiously loud and exaggerated fashion, walk over, snap the door shut and then shake my head slowly as if to say why must my life partner hate his country so much?
As if things couldn't get worse, last night the door was open again. Someone is obviously not very skilled at picking up non-verbal hints, are they? But since no one was home to sigh-snap-shake to, I simply grabbed a frozen burrito, tossed in on a plate and nuked that sucker for 2 minutes and 22 seconds.
And then I removed my plate with the wonderfully cooked burrito on it that I was actually looking forward to eating and had to BRUSH OFF A DEAD SPIDER that I apparently murdered after it had wandered innocently into the microwave. I was left with an empty stomach and a guilty conscious. And a scowl.
I have no idea why.
I've asked.
He has no idea why. At one point he tried to reason, "That way it's ready for when you want to put your food in."
Except then I pointed out that you still had to use one hand to swing the door all the way open since it is not left open wide enough to squeeze a whole plate through so it's technically not ready at all. I also pointed out that it drives me absolutely crazy to walk into the kitchen and see the door to the microwave open just a crack like someone wasn't strong enough to shut the dang thing.
Then he pointed out that it doesn't seem to bother anyone except me and he's pretty sure there are other families across America who leave their microwave doors open and perhaps I'm just un-American.
And I took those to be fighting words because I am most certainly not un-American. I joined the Army, remember? And then I pointed out how he has never served in the military so maybe he's the un-American one in this relationship and then he asked me if I remembered whether or not to pay Lawnmower Timmy which had nothing at all to do with the fact he un-American-ly leaves the microwave door open so I scowled at him. And he is getting really good at masking his fear because it seemed like he didn't even notice.
So, I decided to take the high road. Now every time I walk into the kitchen and see the microwave door open a crack I sigh in an obnoxiously loud and exaggerated fashion, walk over, snap the door shut and then shake my head slowly as if to say why must my life partner hate his country so much?
As if things couldn't get worse, last night the door was open again. Someone is obviously not very skilled at picking up non-verbal hints, are they? But since no one was home to sigh-snap-shake to, I simply grabbed a frozen burrito, tossed in on a plate and nuked that sucker for 2 minutes and 22 seconds.
And then I removed my plate with the wonderfully cooked burrito on it that I was actually looking forward to eating and had to BRUSH OFF A DEAD SPIDER that I apparently murdered after it had wandered innocently into the microwave. I was left with an empty stomach and a guilty conscious. And a scowl.
Comments
noah ALWAYS leaves the kitchen cabinets open
scroat
Nuked spiders are like... my favorite.
One time my mom came home to find hundreds of ants all over a tupperware of brownies that was in our microwave (I still hide snacks in the microwave). She turned it on for ten minutes and fried all the ants AND melted the bottom out of the tupperware.