microwave etiquette.

I do not own a microwave. I do not know how to use them, nor do I like the generic "I-was-once-good-food-that-has-just-been-reheated-and-now-smells-the-same-as-once-good-now-defunct-through-reheating-food-so-help-my-digestion-indeed."

HOWEVER. I had leftover chili yesterday, and couldn't stomach the idea of the food court for anything. "Food Court". Harumph. These places are antitheses of courting, healthy living, or kind sentiment of any sort.

Determined to overcome my bias, I approached the lunch room. (Which I may say is also the location of the water cooler, so promised at least the potential of some nutritive gossip. By the end of the day, however, I tallied an hour and 10 minutes of sundry gossip (in varying places) about Ikea furniture, exemplary sofas, and bedframe design. Which I, of course, had nothing to contribute to.)

A good five minutes later a fellow employee (a stranger, of course) came upon me staring at the microwave in consternation. I realized that this wouldn't do. I had to act, and act fast, and like I knew what I was doing, or both chili and self-esteem might be lost forever.

I put the bowl in, pushed some buttons, and stepped back, exuding an air of inpenetrable confidence. Or so I thought.

I looked over at his meal, churning away merrily in the microwave opposite.

Christ.

"Do you put a paper towel over the bowl?" I asked, making to sound like this was some sort of cultural choice of his, that I had already tried many a time and then deemed out of chic, given my hip modern appearance.

"Well, it's only proper etiquette" he said. "But I wouldn't want to tell you what to do!"

Microwave etiquette, ladies and gentlemen. Microwave etiquette.