Reconciliation

Whenever one moves from one abode to another, there seems an endless list of things to get used to. Moving to Iowa aside, this past month I've had a new house to discover. This house is over a hundred years old. The glass in the windowpanes has slowly run and settled at the bottom so that when one looks outside, the view is always slightly distorted.

Anyway, it's a nice house despite it's quirks. I am getting used to the way the door down to the basement will initially appear to close but then swing three inches ajar as soon as no one's looking. I'm getting used to the way the thermostat will, if you decide you want it one degree warmer and turn it up, change it's mind about the temperature immediately and declare it is actually already one degree warmer in the house, so there's no need to turn the heat on after all. We've solved problems like the way the couch and bed slid all over the slick wooden floors with lovely little gripper things that someone manufactures for this precise purpose and sells for a very low price at hardware stores. I'm even getting used to the fact that my glee over having two ample walk-in closets is diminished slightly every time I walk into one and remember that here it's 20 degrees colder behind a closed door.

All of these little adjustments have been minor and relatively painless - but that is perhaps because they do not involve the most important room of the house. Moving into a new kitchen is always interesting. Every stove heats differently. All burners are not created equal. Our kitchen is outfitted with lovely new appliances, but none of them work quite the way I'm used to.

My most hated feature of our new kitchen was the timer on the microwave. I like a simple microwave. I like being able to walk up to it and punch in a number and hit "start" and watch the clock begin to count down. Our microwave seemed unnecessarily cumbersome. One has to first hit the "timer" button before punching in a time. This cannot be done in the opposite order. Then, one may not hit the nice, bright, central, "start" button. No. One must hit the small, deferential, and out of the way "timer" button again, to start the countdown. Time and time again, I would try to start a timer only to accidentally start the microwave cooking nothing, or simply elicit absolutely no response from the appliance whatsoever - not even a changing display (which is infuriating).

And then, to top it all off, this timer does not stop beeping when it runs out. It does not stop for even a moment to make sure you're not somewhere like on the other side of the kitchen with your hands covered in raw chicken. It just beeps, and beeps, and beeps until you go and hit, no, not the oblivious, red-outlined "clear/off" button. Timer. You have to hit "timer" again.

It is perhaps one of the faults of my personality that while I am rarely stirred to rage by truly offensive or upsetting events, small, niggling things can incense me to the core in a very short amount of time. I loathed our microwave. I wanted to smash it's little beeping face in instead of gently pressing the "timer" button every time that alarm when off.

But, it's been over a month now, and today I discover that I have reconciled with the microwave. First, I owe this to the basic human ability to learn. When I hear that beeping, I no longer lunge for the useless start and off/clear buttons. I dart deftly across the kitchen, hit the correct button (with my always chicken-free pinky finger if necessary) and continue what I was doing, none the angrier. Also, I have discovered that the separation of the "start" and "timer" buttons results in being able to cook something while simultaneously running an unconnected countdown. Talk about modern convenience!

However, what has really mended my dislike for the timer is the most magical and enchanting substance on earth. Tea. Anyone who's ever lived with me can tell you how much I love tea, and also how I brew a significantly larger amount of tea than I consume. This is partially because I give tea to anyone else who will accept it, but also because I have a very bad habit of starting my tea, wandering out of the kitchen and forgetting about it until the tea is quite over-steeped and cold. I have tried to set a timer to help me with this problem, and sometimes it works. But sometimes I am so embroiled in whatever I am doing, my mind hears a single beep and goes, "Oh yeah, tea," and promptly and entirely forgets until I innocently wander into the kitchen much later.

This new timer has solved my tea problem. I can't forget. Even when I am all the way upstairs, that delightfully mellow and constant chirping will float up the stairs and inform me, gently, that my tea is ready and I need only scurry down, touch the timer button, and add some milk and honey to my beverage of choice.

Now I sit here, cup of tea at my elbow, feeling quite fond of this new house.