Squirrel Thoughts

When it comes to putting metal in the microwave, I don’t have a good track record. Though the chemistry of it is fairly cut and dried (do not put ANY amount of metal in the microwave for ANY amount of time. EVER.), I struggle with the concept. Embarrassing, I know.

What would happen if I came to your house and put something in your microwave.

Now, before you write me off as a complete idiot, you should know that many newer microwaves that Real Adults have come with metal racks on which to place food. My parents happen to have one of these, and it just confuses the hell out of my subconscious. While that really doesn’t justify the following stories, it’s still important to know.

The first time I nearly blew the house up, I was preparing a snack of crackers and those little wedges of Laughing Cow cheese. I’d just pulled the cheese out of the fridge, so it wasn’t easily spreading. I decided I could probably stick one of the wedges in the microwave, just for a few seconds, and it would be fine. Half a second later, it started to spark and flame. Instead of instantly solving the problem by pulling the microwave door open, I freaked out. Once I started jumping and waving my hands up and down while screaming “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!” Zach calmly waltzed over and opened it, extinguishing the blaze.

“Um, you know you can’t put metal in the microwave, right?”

“Well, I didn’t think it would start on fire right away. I thought you could put a little bit in for a couple seconds and it would be OK.”

“No. Do not put ANY amount of metal in the microwave for ANY amount of time. EVER.”

Now, I’ve done a pretty good job of following this simple rule since that terrifying experience. Until this morning.

I had just finished making some delicious whole-wheat chocolate chip pancakes, and I decided I wanted to put some peanut butter on them. We had a little bit of organic peanut butter left, but it wouldn’t really spread because I had used up all the oils that had separated. “I’ll just pop it into the microwave for a few seconds to soften it up,” I thought.

Unbeknownst to me, hiding discreetly along the rim of the plastic jar was a tiny bit of foil, leftover from when I first opened it. So, when I put it in the microwave, it started to spark, as it is chemically inclined to do. I started freaking out, complete with the aforementioned jumping and screaming, but this time I at least mustered the courage to open the door myself.

Rustled from his slumber by all the racket, Zach came out of our bedroom and asked what I was doing. I explained that I’d ignited a minor fire, but everything was OK now.

“Did you put metal in the microwave again?”

“Um, well, I put the peanut butter jar in the microwave, and it started to spark. I didn’t realize there was metal on it. There was just a bit of foil leftover. I didn’t knowingly do it this time.”

“OK, but while we’re on the subject…”

“I know, I know.”

“Do not put ANY amount of metal in the microwave for ANY amount of time. EVER.”

We’ll see if it sticks for good this time.