Today's Straight Dope article on radiation leakage via the microwave door reminded me how much I dislike looking into the oven while I'm nuking potatos, water, and yesterday's hamburger. Popcorn doesn't scare me because the expanding pouch is a known quantity. The worst I can do with popcorn is cause an awful burning stench. But I refuse to watch anything else rotating around in the microwave. I don't fear radiation or what future damage I might be causing -- very little if you believe the article. I'm scared of the door flying off the hinges and smacking me right in the face. I am. When leftover chinese food emits hissing and popping sounds, I tell myself that everything is okay, but I can't help feeling that I'm about to watch a fried rice explosion. If I don't look inside, I feel alright while I wait for the buzzer to ring.