We’re economical and the hotel room has a microwave. We consider options at the Market Basket. He wants pasta; I want chowder. It’s almost Boston; chowder’s practically required. The container says “microwave safe”, so I plop it into the machine, and hit one minute. The sides collapse when I pick it up; my hand screams.
365/radical elements 
OMG!!!!!
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Ouch! I’d be surprised if it was only your hand screaming.
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