Even Microwaves Get the Blues

I’ve cried twice today. I don’t know what it says about my character that I have no problem admitting that, but there it is. Twice. Me, actually having to grab a tissue and recompose myself crying.

The first time was while watching back this past week’s performance show of So You Think You Can Dance. Yes, reality TV made me cry. I’ll give you a moment to digest that. A piece by choreographer Travis Wall about helping his mother through sickness struck a little close to home. And so there I was on the sofa, in tears. That would end up being the least absurd of the two moments.

The second was at my trip to the recycling center. It really should have been a mundane task. The microwave quit working a couple of weeks ago. No idea why, it just did. The keypad wouldn’t work and it wouldn’t turn on. So, we got a new one. No big deal, right? These things happen in 2010. Appliances break. You get a new one.

So, I drove out Winchester Road to the Appliance Recycling Center. Now, I’ve only seen trailers for Wall-E, but in my best guess the ARC is exactly what the world of that film looks like. Nothing but discarded and broken appliances in various conditions sitting everywhere. The place was all heaps of metal sitting in piles with the occasional discernible object like a refrigerator door jutting out of the side. I pulled up and asked two guys working under the hood of a semi what I needed to do. I was instructed to drive to the other side where I’d see a refrigerator. I was told to just leave my microwave there.

I did as I was told. I then laid the microwave down with his cord wrapped up all nicely and got back in the car. That’s when it started. I looked out the window and saw my little microwave there and I lost it. I unabashedly bawled. True story: I’m beginning to again as I type this.

I wish I could say that it was some environmental guilt. That seeing the wastefulness of our society and knowing I was contributing to it had moved me. That wasn’t it. While the scenery was striking, it didn’t touch me quite that way. It wasn’t the realization of how transient and temporary everything, including people, really are. However, it wouldn’t take too poetic a mind to get there. I truly felt like I was abandoning something. Like I was leaving a puppy on the side of the road to fend for itself.

I’ve always had a sickness for giving feelings to inanimate objects. And yes, the good English major in me knows the word (anthropomorphism) and that’s truly what it was. I was sure my little microwave was feeling sad, knowing his fate. He was going from being in a happy, climate controlled home, to sitting on asphalt beside a broken down Magic Chef side-by-side in 90 degree heat. I still feel guilt for discarding him so callously.

It’s something I’ve always done. I tried to play with toys as a kid an equal amount of time so one of them wouldn’t feel bad for not getting attention. I name my cars. I talk to the washing machine. I turn off my BlackBerry to give it a rest sometimes just because I feel like it would appreciate a break.

Maybe I’m letting my crazy get a little too public by actually posting this. Or maybe I’ll find out I’m not the only one who does this (you guys are out there, aren’t you?). For now, I’m back on the sofa wondering if I should name the new microwave and being very grateful that I hadn’t named the old one.