I Killed It

A couple of weeks ago, I was getting ready for work on my late day (when I don't go in until 12), and I popped a potato in the microwave to bake while I was getting dressed.

So I finished blowing my hair dry, came out of the bathroom, and smelled smoke. Actually, I saw smoke, too. I immediately started running around the apartment, trying to find the source of the smoke, because I'm thinking, "Dangit, I'm late for work, but I can't leave until I make sure the house isn't burning down!" I checked the candle--it was fine. I checked both laptops--they were fine. Then, as I was trying to figure out in which area of the apartment the smell was strongest, I thought, "My potato!" So I went running into the kitchen and opened the microwave door.

I have never seen anything like this. At least, not in a microwave. This potato was not just burnt; it was totally charred. You know how when your campfire is about gone, there are black embers that still glow red around the edges? It was like that. Totally black, but with some bright red, glowing edges. It looked like a piece of charcoal.

So I tried to pick it up with a spatula so I could put it in the sink, and the thing broke in half. It was then that I saw that it was totally charred throughout.

When we got home that night, I showed Nathan what had happened, and he laughed. Then he tried to use the microwave, and that is when we realized that it was dead. I had killed it.

I don't know what exactly killed the microwave, but I have a hunch that the potato might have been flaming.

Lesson of the Day: Do not microwave a tiny potato for 10 minutes. (I blame this lack of common sense on my pregnancy brain.) Reasons not to turn your food into charcoal:
a. You avoid your house smelling like a smoker lives there.
b. You avoid the embarrassment of calling the landlady, who is 72 and lives above you and will freak out when she smells smoke, to tell her not to worry, that you simply nuked a potato.