Thursday, September 11, 2008

Taking the micro out of microwave

Much to my chagrin, my apartment wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The toilet was, though—cracked, that is. It was all fun and games until I found out that the hot water heater didn't work. I thought it would be just like going for a polar bear swim at Camp Steiner or a pool olympic dip at the Gasser's frosty Phoenix pool; but, it was much worse. After stepping into the icy shower I received an immediate Stewart Falls brain freeze and by the time my 15 second shower concluded my body was convulsing so badly that I could barely turn off the faucet. Now the faucet just spins and spins and never turns on, so I've got that going for me, which is nice. Meanwhile, after the first day of class I was eager to eat the bounteous boon of groceries and microwavable musts that Mom and Dad purchased for me at Sam's Club on Labor Day. Excitement transformed into frustration and then to angry hunger as I learned that, not only was our microwave humungous, but the door won't open unless you jimmy it ajar with a knife. The management must have gotten it at a yard sale because it's three feet long. However, despite all this, I was able to take comfort in the fact that I wouldn't be able to sleep that night because the toilet would be blowing bubbles as though the water were passing back gas.

1 comment:

Brittany said...

bob.
as i sit here and think about your post. i laugh. i laugh while reading it. I tell Berkley to read it. I love it. I laugh.