I have been using microwaves since I was a Wee Meg. I recall that the first microwave I used had a dial. My favorite thing to do at the tender age of 5 was run to the microwave, set it at one second, wait for it to go, “Ting!” and say, “Hey, I have an idea!”
I’m a firm believer that sound effects are key for announcements, no matter how small.
“I have an idea!I should velcro my shoes!”
“I have an idea! Lets take Grandma George to the Children’s Museum!”
Note: Grandma George was my invisible friend. I’ll write about her sometime.
Note Number 2: Why is an Art Museum call such because it exhibits, y’know art? But a Children’s Museum doesn’t put children on display…
Anyway, my childhood experience with microwaves always went fine. I never set any fires. I never overcooked anything because I was 5 and my sole purpose for the use was to make the “Ting!” sound.
I mean, my sperm count is now low, but I’m a female, so I think that’s expected.
Thirty years later, I like to think that I am somewhat self-sufficient. I put my shirt on correctly 90% of the time. I’ve been applauded for some of my cooking some of the time. For instance, I am capable of making an 8 lb turkey for Thanksgiving, but I don’t like having people around when I do it, because it grosses me out and I scream a lot.
However, I find grand things more simple to accomplish in life than simple things.
Which is why the microwave is today’s topic. Correct me if I’m wrong, but a microwave oven is smaller than a macrowave oven, sooo…
Throughout childhood, I used the microwave to make after-school snacks without a problem. Never even burnt my Meg-Invented Shredded Cheddar Cheese Between Two Slices of Bread treat that I suggest you never try.
But these days? These days things are getting tough. I don’t think it is because food and microwaves are becoming fancier. I mean, there is a button that just says, “Pizza.” Back in my “Ting” days, the microwave didn’t know a thing about how to make pizza by itself.
In my case, though, it just is user error.
The thing is, I had just made a joke about how I’m such a bad cook that I would set a fire in the microwave.
That was just a joke.
A few days later, I decided that I wanted some breaded mushrooms that were taking up too mushroom in the freezer (do you see what I did there?!). The problem was that there were no instructions for cooking them in the microwave.
“Psh,” I thought. “I’m above this. I can make it happen.”
And, like, you know how when you make popcorn, you need to be attentive and listen for the popping to slow down so you don’t burn it? See how I actually know that?
I thought I’d be intuitive. I’d just stick around and listen for the energy of the mushrooms to tell me that they were done.
So I tossed them in the microwave for a while.
Then I got distracted. Probably sent some Snaps on The SnapChats.
Clicked the heart on Instagram.
Laughed at dogs on The Facebooks.
Tried to take some #selfies that showed that I didn’t really take myself too seriously, but still showed off my makeup. Suddenly, I noticed that my selfies were looking delightfully hazy, but I hadn’t chosen a filter.
The haze was real because I forgot about my four mushrooms and there was a small fire in the microwave.
It was small enough that it went out by itself. Big a fire, nonetheless.
I truly did set a fire in the microwave.
The thing about me is that I find the seemingly impossible and make it possible.
Without meaning to.