The Story of the Microwaves

A few days ago, my mother called me to say there were flames shooting out of her microwave and she needed a new one.  I asked her if she had put anything with metal in it and she told me no.  So off I went to buy a new oven.  I brought the first one home but she couldn’t read the control panel.  She has macular degeneration.    Off I went to buy a second microwave which, to me, looked much more legible.  Although this one was a little better, she still couldn’t read it without a lot of effort.  In the meantime, my brother had discovered that she had put a cup with gold trim in it which caused the flames.  So now she wanted her old microwave back.  Fortunately we had not disposed of it. 

But on the weekend, at a flea market, I found one that was very legible, even better than her old one.  Nice big black letters on a white background.  The vendor wanted $20.00, I offered $15.00 and he accepted. 

Now we have two ovens to return to the store, an old one to keep because it still works, and a new to her oven that all she has to do is press the start button.  It couldn’t get any easier.