Last night, I had to work the overnight shift, but as volunteer coordinator, I often get called in randomly during the day. Yesterday was one of those days. I had a group of volunteers coming so I had to go in at noon to help get them all situated. When I got home, I crawled into bed for a nap, knowing I had to be back at 10pm.
An hour after falling asleep, I was jolted awake by a loud, completely random banging.
Bang, bang, bang.
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
I laid there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what in the heck my husband was doing. And then I heard the microwave beep.
The light bulb came on.
I groaned, fished for my phone and blearily dialed his number, unwilling to leave my nice, comfy bed. He didn't pick up. I texted him, threatening bodily harm if he didn't stop trying to kill the microwave.
Now, at this point, most of us would have said 'eff it and put our food in the oven, right? Not him.
A few minutes later, the banging resumed.
Bang, bang, bang.
I crawled from bed, stumbled down the hall and told him if he valued his life, he'd better stop beating on the microwave. I then turned around and went straight back to bed, without waiting for a response.
Naturally, he followed me.
As I was getting back into bed, he opened the bedroom door.
"The microwave is dead!"
He closed the door.
I covered up and closed my eyes.
A few minutes later, the door opened once more.
"It's pissed me off for the last time. I'm taking it apart!"
He closed the door again.
I laid there for a few minutes, not sure if I should laugh or try to talk him down. I mean, taking apart a microwave out of sheer male ire doesn't sound like the smartest plan ever, but I'm a girl, so what do I know?
I eventually decided the microwave was dead anyway, and he couldn't do it much harm by taking it apart. Plus, maybe he'd work off a little of his frustration, or get shocked and learn a valuable lesson about working on appliances he knows nothing about while I sleep. Either outcome was fine by me.
About an hour later, I finally gave up on going back to sleep and crawled from bed to get ready for work. I walked into the kitchen to find tools everywhere. Oddly enough, the microwave was in one piece and SS hadn't called for an ambulance.
Was this success?!
I walked into the living room to find him finishing off a breakfast sandwich, a proud grin on his face.
"Fix the microwave?" I asked.
"Nope," he said, still grinning proudly. "It's dead. I used the oven."
Ay yi yi.
(aka Author in need of a new microwave)
Fade - The Ragnarok Prophesies: Book One - On Sale at: Amazon US | UK | DE | FR | IT | ES | Barnes and Noble | Kobo