It has come to my attention that the link I posted in my entry this morning was wrong. That�s what I get for posting on the run. It�s all fixed now, so click back to check out Spamarama! Spamalympics! Spam toss! Spam eating contest! Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!

I am currently dining on one of those ice cream sundae cups, leftovers from AJ�s birthday snack at school. It is surprisingly delicious for something referred to as a �frozen novelty.� I don�t think I�ve had one of these since elementary school. It�s not quite a Proustian madeleine, but I do suddenly hear the bells of the Good Humor truck in my head. At least, I hope it�s the ice cream that�s causing that. In any case, brain freeze is the only logical explanation or excuse I have for today�s rambling and pointless entry. Proceed at your own risk.

I spent a good part of the morning trying to get rid of our old microwave, which has been taking up space in the back of the car for months now. This microwave has become my albatross, the millstone around my neck. Microwaves are surprisingly hard to dispose of, even when in perfect working condition like ours. You can�t just throw them out because they�re an environmental hazard, ("I�m sorry, little lady," said the gentleman manning the township disposal area, "we can�t take that here. You�ll have to wait until the next hazardous waste cleanup. That�ll be, let's see, oh you just missed it! The next one�s in March 2005�). You can�t donate them to most thrift stores, as most don�t want to deal with appliances. The one thrift store near us that does take microwaves had so many several months ago when I last tried to get rid of it, that they wouldn�t take it. Today I was enterprising. I put it in a big box and piled some clothes we were donating too on top of it. Thus disguised, I carried it into the store and left before anyone had time to open the box. Yes, I am the stealth donor! Under cover of darkest night, I sneak into thrift stores and leave them appliances! They never know what hits them! They can only ask, �Who was that masked klutz tripping over the electrical cord?�

My experience with small appliance disposal reminded me of a story one of my college professors had told me. Prof. R. was full of odd tales and random quips. �The gravity monkeys are at it again!� he�d shout whenever he dropped a pencil or his chalk. Those pesky gravity monkeys. Apparently Prof. R. has an equally eccentric brother. When they were kids, one of them gave the other an orange for Christmas, a totally lame present that was considered humorous. The next Christmas, the recipient of the orange returned it, wrapped as a present again. The same orange. For 20 years they were regifting the orange, with each disguised return more stealthy than the last. By now the orange was shriveled, black and hard as a rock, so it was a little easier to disguise, being smaller and less aromatic. In the last incarnation I heard about, it was hidden inside a hollowed out book in a package of other books sent to Prof. R�s brother. As far as I know this bizarre gift exchange continues to this day.

There was, for a while, a similar regifting process amongst students in my department. The object this time was a copy of Huey Lewis and the News� Sports CD, one of the worst albums I�ve ever heard. The only reason I have an opinion on this is that I was a lucky recipient. The giver was sneaky. I was taking over her apartment when she moved out mid-lease. She left me a kitchen table and a lovely sofa, into a crevice of which the CD was carefully hidden. When I found it and extracted it, I discovered a Post-it note on the cover reading �HA HA!� I myself got rid of the CD by stashing it in the backpack of an unsuspecting guest when he was in the bathroom. I don�t know if he ever figured out where it came from. The exchange eventually petered out, however, when someone decided they actually liked the CD and kept it.

Perhaps someone will actually like my poor, unappreciated microwave. Perhaps its journey has already come to an end in a shelter or in someone�s home or an appliance graveyard. Or perhaps there are many microwave adventures yet to come.

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