Anyone who knows me knows that since becoming a mom, I am constantly on the lookout for a good deal. Which, if I’m being honest, is not-so-secret-code for: “I’m freaking cheap”. What good mother on a budget isn’t at least a little cheap? But y’all, I’m here to tell you that I would spend all the money on a microwave that doesn’t sound like it’s being murdered at 5 o’clock in the morning. You know the sound I’m talking about.
It’s the buttcrack of dawn. You’re up because: mommy bladder. You know that even though you’re not hungry at such an early hour, it would behoove you to grab a quick bowl of oatmeal before the
scavengers children wake up. All is well and you’re wrapped up in cleaning the sticky off the floor from the night before — and it happens. The sound of a thousand mom souls dying permeates within the pit of your stomach. The bleeping microwave has ratted you out, your oatmeal is done, and, coincidentally, so is your “me” time. Oh, sure; you could eat your breakfast in the pantry like an animal. Lights off, door shut, hunched over the bowl riddled with guilt. You could even throw a towel under the crack of the door in a feeble attempt to keep the smell of cinnamon-y goodness from wafting up the noses of your hangry offspring. But realistically, it’s over. You’re finished. They’ve heard the song of their people and they’re coming for you.
It happens to the best of us. All we want to do is clean up the, what the hell is that– chocolate milk covered rice?!, from underneath the fournado’s chair. Maybe wash a dish or two or even wipe down the counter before the heathens enter and turn your backsplash into a milk-splash. But all hopes of a semi-clean, baby wipe scrubbed kitchen are dashed. All because of that noisy-ass microwave that we just had to have.
The pants I’m wearing were bought on clearance for $8 and my top is from two kids back. I’m all about the Target dollar section and I never, but never, buy full price cereal. I don’t need a refrigerator that can tell me the weather or order a gallon of milk, and I don’t give a crap about a self-cleaning dishwasher. But a less angst-sounding microwave? A SILENT microwave? Take all my money. LG, I’m yours for the taking.