THE YEAR I STARTED AT NUST
An Ode to the University Microwave
The Unsanctioned Nightclub. For some, a student dorm room is the ideal place for an impromptu house party. For others, a housemate's poor decision to use the shared microwave for an exploding bean tin—20 minutes after moving in—is the start of their own chaotic nightlife. A microwave, scarred by burnt offerings, becomes a beacon for late-night gatherings and a reminder of the disasters that brought the residents together.
A Culinary Time Machine. This magical box has the power to take food from "frozen block" to "edible—but-only-if-you-close-your-eyes" in a matter of minutes. It has been used to cook everything from unseasoned mince, consumed straight from the pan all week, to forgotten takeout from three days prior. The microwave doesn't judge. It just rotates.
The Relentless Stain. Despite endless cleaning attempts, the microwave holds onto its past with stubborn resolve. Burnt-cheese splatter, sauce explosions, and unidentifiable splatters become part of its permanent decor. These stains aren't just messes; they are a chronicle of a year of late-night study sessions and post-party munchies. Every fingerprint and food splatter is a story.
The Mystery of the Missing Plate. In a kitchen of shared spaces and unknown housemates, the microwave becomes a Bermuda Triangle for Tupperware and dishes. A bowl of soup goes in, and an hour later, it's just a memory. The empty microwave mocks you as you search for your stolen goods, and you swear you see a faint stain of what was once your meal.
So, here's to the university microwave—a true companion and witness to the best and most absurd parts of student life. It's the silent observer of your academic struggles, your social triumphs, and your questionable dietary choices. Treat it with respect. It has seen it all.

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