My $800 microwave died four months ago. Its metallic corpse is still mounted above our stove. Like an exotic thoroughbred, it was elegant but frail, and fell ill if handled without ritualistic care and attention.
Life without a microwave was unthinkable. We consoled ourselves that we could drag our old one (an unsightly plastic workhorse), out of the cellar in an emergency, until we bought bought our replacement.
Imagine our shock to discover that you don't need a microwave. Period. You can defrost your breakfast blueberries on the stove top in the same time that it takes to zap them. Bagels are tastier from the oven, as is anything involving cheese. Popcorn without the chemicals is a revelation. Other foods no longer taste like science experiments.
There's even a convenience advantage to ditching the microwave. Thirty seconds too long in the mike can be a disaster. Five minutes too long in the oven is (mostly) no big deal.
Life without a microwave is not only manageable: its better.
I haven't missed the microwave once. Really. The old one is still in the cellar. I would never have thought that was possible, if it hadn't been forced on me.
Sizable chunks of your writing (and mine) are just like that microwave.
Next post, we'll talk about how to find them.
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