The day the microwave arrived
My mother has an unhealthy obsession with microwaves. There are many
traits that I have inherited from her and I sincerely hope that isn't
one of them. The day Dad first brought home a microwave oven, we spent
an hour trying to microwave popcorn. The first twenty or so times we
attempted it, smoke spewed from the microwave and the popcorn ended up
fused into a great lump of charcoal. None of us seemed capable of
grasping the concept that it could be cooked in 2 minutes. Needless to
say, there's probably little chance of a future Nobel prize winner
coming out of my family's gene pool. Mum finally crossed the line the
day she decided it was a a bit cold and microwaved the salad she had
just prepared us for dinner. It didn't actually taste that bad, but it
was scary how dependent she was becoming on that little appliance.
