I have a microwave.
I've had it for years. It's one of those little black things, like a little
tombstone. I can't remember the brand name, although the first letter is an
‘R’.
I like it.
One day I was cooking something in it, and I thought it was a little strange that it
was so quiet. So I opened the door, and discovered that the little black tombstone
had eaten my dinner. An entire meal.
It had eaten the chicken, the rice, the peas, the carrots, the corn, the sauce,
the butter, and the drinking chocolate.
Then I thought, “What a ridiculous thing to do!”
It's not as if it's going to save me any time.
I am going to have to cook it again.
It will probably take about the same length of time as the first time.
There's nothing wrong with the idea of re-heating dinner,
it just seems like a lot of work.
A lot of unnecessary work.
It's just that I had gotten into the habit of throwing everything into the
microwave at once, and then having it all ready and waiting for me,
all at the same time.
In the end, I didn't re-heat it, I just ate it cold.
It wasn't quite as good.
I think that in future I will continue to microwave it the first time.