Ya gotta laugh

This is what I awoke to this morning:
Yes, this is a picture of our microwave. But look closer. Do you see a handle? Yes, you do. It's lying on the counter -- along with a screwdriver and assorted pairs of pliers.
Now, at 6:00 in the morning I am not at my most astute, but even I knew that something was amiss. I think I stared at it for about 5 minutes before my brain tuned into my eyes.
When son #3 came down I pointed to the counter and said, "Do you know anything about this?" He said, "Oh, yeah -- son #2 did it." "And did he attempt to fix it?", I asked, gesturing at the tools. "Yeah, we all tried to fix it." Hmmmm, I thought.
A bit later, son #2 came down.
Me: "Son #2, anything unusual happen last night while I was out?", pointing towards the microwave, where the handle used to be.
Son #2: "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I BARELY pulled on the handle and it just came off in my hand!"
Now this is a child who hasn't BARELY done anything since the day he was born (well, except study), but at 6:15 in the morning I was not about to get into a debate about that. Dear ol' dad was in NYC and I was out with friends last night. I must've passed the kitchen and collected my $200 on the way to my room when I got home.
So, another day, another repairman. This guy spent all of 60 seconds in my home. Walked in, looked at the handle-less door, pried said door open, wrote down the serial number and said,"I have to order the part. I'll be back.". I'm not really sure why they didn't just ask for the serial # when I called this morning and told them they'd have to order another handle. Guess they knew I was a woman and they'd have to send a man out to just make sure.
I'm kind of afraid to get up in the morning. Maybe we should have a repairman on retainer. I'm sure we could put his kids through college.