I didn't need one. I had a good lunch and plenty of it. I had a decent dinner planned. In other words, there was no reason to eat.
But there was a bag of microwave popcorn in my desk drawer. It had been there for almost 2 years. I'd forgotten about it and stumbled upon it today looking for something else.
Once I knew it was there, I got a little obsessed with it. Couldn't stop thinking about it.
So off I went to the breakroom microwave. Tossed that baby in, spun the dial to "popcorn" and filled my water glass with ice. I could hear those lovely little kernels popping away. I headed to the water cooler and began to fill up my glass, when ...
I smelled burning.
In the movie in my head, I screamed, "Noooooooo!" and lunged toward the microwave with the grace of a gazelle ... in slow motion and with good lighting, of course. (My hair looked fabulous, BTW.)
I was too late. The popcorn had barely started to pop and it was black as could be. Ruined. All of it ruined.
Apparently, microwave popcorn has a shelf life.
After dousing the bag with water to ensure there were no flames before I tossed it in the garbage, I simply had to smile.
When the universe tells you something, it's wise to listen. I was not meant to have popcorn this afternoon.
Duly noted.
(And I'm sorry, coworkers, for that awful smell in Perks around 2:30 p.m.)
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