Notes in the Cell Phone 9

Every time I finish melting my agar, the microwave displays “ENJOY YOUR MEAL.” Of course, the microwave can’t know that it’s being used for scientific, as opposed to culinary, pursuits, but all the same… Sometimes you’re in the lab alone, on a weekend. The late night and the fact that you haven’t eaten in eight hours has a very peculiar way of mixing with that noxious, but full and somewhat fragrant smell of molten agar, which by this point seems downright delicious. At this point, you look at the microwave (ENJOY YOUR MEAL), you press the open button, and are greeted with the smell of freshly prepared agar. Hot. Steaming, like a pot of black porridge. Like that black sesame paste thing your mom used to feed you when you were small. At this point, you sort of forget what it is you’re doing, and instinctively, you salivate. How you understand me, oh microwave, ol’ buddy. My pal in the lab. Why, yes, I will enjoy my meal, thanks. It’s made of seaweed, right?


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