Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Contemplating Sylvia Plath


I was making [soy] chicken nuggets. I pre-heated the oven, and after a few minutes, I went to stick in the tray. Upon opening the oven, a wave of heat blasted me in the face, and I found myself just standing there, my arms still poised in the center, letting the fumes of hot air caress my sun-burned arms.

I found myself contemplating what death must have felt like for Sylvia Plath.
I closed the oven and set the egg timer for fifteen minutes.
Don't worry. I won't be sticking my head in any ovens.

The timer dinged. I should go get my nuggets.