Chelsea looked around her kitchen, wondering if there was anything to be done while she waited. The light from her computer in the living room shone, offering the only light in that dark room, just visible from the kitchen.
The microwave beeped, and Chelsea hurried over at its command. She opened the door, then peeled back the lid of the dinner tray. She grabbed her fork, stirred the food, then put the lid down and closed the door again. She pushed a few buttons, and the microwave started up with another minute and twenty seconds to go.
Wine! Chelsea thought. Almost forgot the wine. She hurried over to the fridge and pulled the door open, a little too forcefully. One of these days, she thought to herself, everything’s going to come tumbling out.
She grabbed the wine bottle and looked at the microwave. A minute left. Not much time. She scrambled in the drawer for the bottler opener. She flipped out the corkscrew and started jamming it into the bottle. She glanced at the microwave again – twenty seconds. She twisted faster, then pulled.
The cork came out with a pop. She grabbed a glass, poured a hefty drink – or two, possibly even three – then started trying to twist the cork free from the opener. The microwave beeped, and she cursed.
Finally the cork was free. Chelsea jammed it a few centimetres back into the bottle, put the bottle back in the fridge, then hurried over to the microwave. She pulled her dinner tray out, the plastic hot on her fingers. She grabbed a plate to put it on, then started for the living room. Just as she reached the threshold, she remembered the glass of wine. She hurried back, careful not to upset the dinner, and grabbed the glass.
She shut off the kitchen light as she entered the living room. She sat on the sofa, and settled in to watch and eat, her wine on the coffee table beside her.