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Diarist in search of a life

October 19, 2007

When I studied Latin, the words, “These things having been written…” always summarized some magnificent occurrence and heralded yet an even more glorious one. Perhaps if I wrote in Latin, the events I recorded would take on fantastic proportion and significance.

This morning, having (Latin is huge on gerunds and participles) made Scottish oat cakes, done laundry, taken care of the chicken chores, and brought the trash cans in from the street, I came upon a small zip-loc bag of blackberries in the freezer. These blackberries having been seen (the Romans were not in the least afraid of the passive voice), I determined that they looked good for my breakfast.

(Cathect to crisp Anglo-Saxon syntax to emphasize punctilious action.)

I popped the bag of blackberries in the microwave and touched the Frozen Vegetables button. I returned two minutes later to the crime scene.

The microwave was a bloodbath. I had forgotten to unzip the zip-loc bag. I cannot recommend this.

The even distribution of blackberry gore throughout the microwave’s interior fascinated me. The four corner wells were all full of juice. The sides and top were spattered. The glass carousel was a pool of dark-red juice, as was the surface underneath. Juice dripped coyly onto the cutting board beneath the microwave shelf.

I thought about it for a minute, and realized that I had outwitted Heisenberg. The blackberry scenario proved that the berries had definitely occupied a well-defined position in space while simultaneously enjoying significant momentum. I had resolved the seventh-grade new-math conundrum, “do points in a balloon move if the balloon moves?” and made a contribution to New Physics at the same time. Besides, Dr. Heisenberg, how can anything be uncertain if it is negated by utter lack of consideration?

It turned out that the silent explosion had forced the bag open while leaving it intact. The juice was the only projectile. The blackberries were safely within the bag, and I had them for breakfast.

The Cat migrated from the opposite end of the table to check out my cereal and blackberries. He shook his head, releasing driblets of tuna-bref drool around my bowl. Lest you think we are merely standoffish, there really are other considerations for our not inviting people over for dinner.

This must suffice for the day’s entry. Perhaps my imminent trip to the drug store will provide an eventful sequel.

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9 Comments
  1. October 19, 2007 11:19 am

    Oh my. I wonder if the Cat was thinking, “Baccato Delenda Est.”

    It sounds like way too much theory put into practice for one day.

  2. October 19, 2007 11:31 am

    I was concerned that it was way too much practice put into theory….

  3. October 20, 2007 7:39 am

    The food was good though… !

  4. Ruben permalink
    October 20, 2007 10:25 am

    If only Heisenberg had had a microwave!

  5. Ruben permalink
    October 20, 2007 10:25 am

    Incidentally, as a literary critic, I would like to point out to you that your microwave oven was the hidden protagonist in this drama.

  6. October 20, 2007 11:55 am

    Ah, well, Ruben: that would leave me wondering as to the identity of the covert antagonist. The zip-loc bag? The blackberries? Surely not I!

    And yes, I suspect if Heisenberg had had a M/W, HUP should never have gained such ascendancy.

  7. Janet permalink
    October 20, 2007 1:44 pm

    Dr. Heisenberg…”hidden protagonist”…Latin gerunds… I think I’m doing my bit for the good of mankind by not owning a microwave.

  8. October 20, 2007 3:01 pm

    Janet, I love your spirit.

  9. October 21, 2007 2:14 pm

    Eventful sequel? You men a chorus of exploding microwaves?

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