My Microwave Is On Fire: Why something is happening FOR me

True success is not the absence of failure. It is the refusal to surrender.

I didn’t expect to be tossing a microwave engulfed in flames into my dark backyard. 

There’s a first time for everything. 

In the 1986 comedy “The Money Pit,” up-and-coming actor Tom Hanks stars as Walter, a young man who decides to buy a house with his girlfriend Anna. After Anna’s ex-husband and landlord kick them out of their Manhattan apartment, the couple decide to buy a suspiciously cheap country estate. 

The lovebirds are convinced they can breathe life into this neglected mansion, but the house has an agenda of its own: door hinges begin to tear off, stairs crumble apart, and a bathtub crashes through the floor. The young couple’s relationship also begins to tear, crumble, and crash. 

“Here lies Walter Fielding. He bought a house, and it killed him,” is the key line. 

A year ago my wife and I decided to purchase our own version of the country estate, full of life and excitement about what we would do with this home. Not one vision has come to pass. 

Instead, we’ve had squirrels in the walls, snakes in our basement, and sewage unable to reach the street. We’ve had no heat, no air conditioning, no hot water, and no more patience for this nonsense. 

So when I heard the screams of “FIRE FIRE FIRE!” after my youngest daughter decided to microwave a battery-operated plastic train for 30 seconds and watch the explosion – well, it was simply poetic as I snatched that melting white box and tossed the majestic flaming shards into the night. 

It was my own version of the bathtub crashing through the ceiling. I flung all my fiery frustrations with a primal scream. 

The microwave tumbled, and the flames leaped up. I trudged out, clipped open the door, dumped out the remains of the train engine, and stomped the fire into the dirt. 

After hastily and frantically calling my wife to inform her that Yes, we are alive. No, you cannot microwave anything again. I promise this is not a joke. I dumped myself into our couch. 

What in the world is this house teaching me? I went to bed that evening exhausted. 

The day after Microwave-Gate, I listened to a random podcast episode and learned about The Barkley Marathon (check the documentary here). It’s the insane and sadistic brainchild of Lazarus Lake. The race is close to a 130-mile trek over 60 hours that is proudly commenced only when Lake has lit up his cigarette. 

Racers climb the equivalent of two Mt. Everest’s (up and down) all in an effort to complete the race in less than 60 hours. This hell on earth has been completed by only 17 of the hardest (and most insane) ultramarathon runners. 

What struck me the most was Lake’s quote at the beginning of a documentary on the race. 

“True success is not the absence of failure. It is the refusal to surrender,” he said. 

All of us find ourselves in life circumstances at some point where we feel like we’ve been put in a sadistic ultramarathon. The only thing we can control is how we respond to these circumstances. 

With my stranger-than-fiction life experiences, my initial reaction was to lament “Why is this happening to me?” 

It took a while – a lot of brooding and frustration, but I finally had it click. I need to rephrase my question: why is this happening for me? 

Young Walter and Anna in The Money Pit finally reconcile and have a beautiful wedding ceremony in front of the home that although almost tore them apart, finally brought them closer together than they ever imagined. 

I’m not saying I have the answer yet to what this house and story are teaching me, but I know one thing: it’s not happening to me.

I won’t let it. 

But something is happening for me. 

I’m ready to embrace whatever it is – flaming microwave and all.

Thanks for reading,

If you enjoyed this essay, check out my essay that references “above the line/below the line” thinking here: