A story with a happy ending.

I did not have time to speak of all the ridiculous shenanigans that went on in purchasing a new microwave two weeks ago.

Let’s just say that Home Depot, Sears, and Sam’s do not actually stock microwaves that you can carry home with you at the time of your purchase.

They do however stock some interesting/mentally challenged employees who will try to sell you a microwave that would be delivered 5 days later for a $65 dollar delivery fee.

Finally at my fourth stop, Lowes, I found a microwave I could buy that night and take home with me. And that was thanks to some online searching by my sister in Utah, via my distraught cell phone convo at the time I was driving from store to store in Vegas.

So everyone take note, just go to Lowes if you have a microwave 911 situation. Because that is exactly what I was facing. Yes it might say something about me that I could live six months without a vacuum, but not even two days without a microwave.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, even if I had to buy the microwave out of the staff lounge, I would not be returning home with out one. With me working, the children had to have a way to feed themselves.

My husband was off doing YM president stuff that involved an eight hour merit badge clinic, so hence I was alone in my quest.

This was both good news and bad news. I got to pick which one I wanted and he usually has strong opinions about such things and we usually do not spend such a large amount of money with out consenting each other. But did I mention the desperation/anxiety/end of my ropeness, I was experiencing? Think heroin addict going through withdrawals.

Yeah, so when he got home and I said "look at our beautiful new microwave." He could see by the glazed/crazed look in my eyes that it would be best to say "Looks good to me". Right answer.

He was so tired that he just took it out of the box and placed it on the counter. And there it has been functioning wonderfully for the past two weeks.

Thursday afternoon while Jared and I were gone to the hospital, my older son decided to make himself some lunch.

This is what the package looked like before an absent minded 17 year old got a hold of it and put it in my beautiful new microwave. (Cue ominous music usually reserved for horror movies.)

If one was inclined to read the directions and follow them, one might notice that one should add water to the noodles in the package and cook in microwave for 6 minutes.

If one is a 17 year old male, with better things to do than follow directions, one might just put the package in the microwave, hit 6 minutes and walk away, with nary a care in the world.

And when the house fills with the smells of an outdoor camp fire, one might expect one to notice.

But one (namely me) might find oneself extremely disappointed/dejected/deranged/in disbelief that one's house now smells like it has had a fire pit burning in the living room.

This is what I met my eyes when I opened the microwave.

And no amount of cleaning, opening of windows, spraying of air freshener, or ranting and raving, made any difference the first day. I finally realized that the smell was in the microwave itself. The inside was permanently stained a golden brown. No amount of bleach even made a dent. And I think the filters and inside were permanently charred.

I tried not to despair that my brand new microwave now smelt to high heaven of burnt offerings. But I was tempted to make some burnt offerings of my own, if you know what I mean.

I put the microwave in the garage, and that did help a bit with the smell in the house. It is still smelly, though.

My sister told me I should take it back, because you can take anything back the first 30 days. I wasn't so convinced, but I figured I didn't have anything to loose.

So here is Diana doing a very nice Vanna impression as we are taking the microwave into Lowes.

Did I mention that by some divine intervention, I for once had purchased the extended warranty on the darn thing? I don't think it mattered, but it couldn't have hurt.

I walked up to the return desk at 8:30 pm and told the girl at the register that I needed to return my microwave. She asked why, and I said because it smells of smoke and I can't keep it. She asked what happened, and I openly admitted that my son had burned something in it.

At this point the manager was called. He asked the same questions, and I was equally open with him. He checked my receipt and because it was less that 30 days, he said they would refund my money.

And so the same guy that loaded/crammed it into the back seat of my car, helped me out with a brand new microwave. And we left the burnt offering back at Lowe's.

It seems to good to be true. But this time, a tragic event has actually worked out to be Okay. Who'd have thunk it?