Thanksgiving, or: The One Week Anniversary of Me Burning My Lip on a Piece of Microwaved Chicken

Yes, tomorrow is the one week anniversary of me burning my lip on a piece of chicken. You see, I buy grilled chicken strips from my grocer's freezer. They are meant to be used for fajitas and salads and whatever you would use strips for, but they are low in fat and precooked. All you have to do is heat them up by whatever means necessary and eat them. I was in a hurry and I microwaved several pieces to eat in a sandwich.

This was my first mistake.

There's no way to know how well or how poorly the microwave cooks things unless you touch it or bite it. I touched it, but it didn't feel that hot. What I forgot was that the microwave cooks things from the inside out, and all those juices inside the chicken were scalding hot. So, when I bit down. . .

Owwee, Owwee, Owwee, Owwee, Owwee!

I had a bad spot on my lip the whole weekend. It traumatized me. I might never be the same. As of this moment, thinking about the one week anniversary, I am eating yogurt. Yogurt cannot hurt me.