When I walked through the back door, I saw a box in the center of the room through which I must pass in order to reach my office.
Everyone was watching for my reaction. The box declared that it contained a microwave.
“What’s a microwave doing in the center of the floor?” I asked, wondering if it was a ritual, or a reminder that we needed a new one.
“It’s not a microwave. It’s a kitten.” The only thin…
