Another adaptation from Edmund’s way (bigger is always better) to something more suitable for aging me: The big-ass microwave will leave the building asap.

I hauled it off its special extended shelf yesterday to clean four years’ worth of kitchen crud off the top, back and sides, and the effort damned near killed me. My arms aren’t long enough to hold it safely in its normal orientation, and lifting it from eye level to bench level takes more upper-body strength than I can typically muster.

And I so don’t need a 2.2-cubic-foot microwave. Something half that size will do me just fine.

So today I went back to Canadian Tire and bought a 0.9-cubic-foot Panasonic that I can lift over my head if I have to — I did a clean and jerk with it to be sure. It’s powerful enough to scald a pint of milk or reheat soup, which is what I use a microwave for.

I toted the Huge Guy down to the basement very, very carefully, and there it will stay until I find somebody who needs a big-ass microwave. It works very well, so somebody will want it.

Along the same line, I think I’m ready to sell the Wedgwood. It’s eight to 12 place settings of fine English-made bone china that I can’t put in the microwave and shouldn’t put in the dishwasher, and there are dealers out there advertising for people like me to call up and book a house call.

But I’m nowhere near ready to sell the silver, even though that doesn’t go in the dishwasher either.