Warning: Ramblings ahead.
A properly filthy day out, but because the microwave exploded yesterday afternoon, I had to go and take it to the microwave (see if we can) repair (it) shop, to see if they could repair it.
As a scientist, if ever we wanted to know what something did in a system, we would remove it from that system, and see what happened. That’s how we worked out that humans need oxygen to survive.
Probably, anyway.
The microwave, removed from the household system with what I think might be a transformer issue, is clearly very important in warming drinks, hot sacks and Saturday evening’s takeaway curry. In fact, given how much we’ve missed it already, I’d argue that it is almost as essential as the oxygen in the house. “Almost” because no-one has actually died yet, but given the rising levels of frustration each time someone tries to use the defunct microwave, there’s every chance that someone might.
Thus, when the guys at the repair place get in touch tomorrow, if the prognosis is not good, I will be buying another microwave very shortly after I take the call. I mean, RIP to the microwave and all that, but in the cold light of day, it’s a wholly replaceable kitchen appliance, not a family member – whatever it might think.
There’s no time for emotion here.
I’m heading out to my car park this evening, but such are the miserable conditions out, I might even be pushed into lighting the fire for the first time this year. I have to think of those I leave behind, see?
It’s 14oC out, and it’s been raining fairly consistently all day. 30mm so far, but I’m quite sure that there’s more on the way. It feels dark and grey and wintery, so I think that a nice fire would cheer up the living room a little.
It would also dry the washing, so there’s a practical side to things as well.
I shall do it.
One thing which has been noticeable this afternoon is the reappearance of our Cape Rain Frogs. This is the first big rain of the season, and they are already chirping away with both glee and delight, but where have they been for the 6 months of bakingly dry summer? In their burrows underground, that’s where. Because although they are frogs, they prefer stick to damp ground, because they’re a bit rubbish at anything to do with water: they can’t swim and they can drown if they get out of their depth.
Pathetic.
Right, let me sort some dinner (stove top) and light that fire. We might as well dip our toes into autumn and winter and embrace the atmosphere. Before heading to an unheated car park for 2½ hours.
