I plugged in the Crockpot and sat in the nearby living room to write. Thirty minutes passed, and I heard a loud pop as if something had broken or fallen. I didn’t suspect the Crockpot at first, but when I couldn’t find any other culprit, I looked around it and noticed the microwave, plugged into the same outlet, no longer had power. I unplugged the Crockpot, found the right switch in the electrical box, and reset the outlet.

I plugged the Crockpot into another outlet. It popped and threw the switch before I walked away. Repeat: unplug the Crockpot, flip the switch.

But no more testing. Safety ruled, and I immediately drove to the store to replace the Crockpot. I didn’t want to lose the meal I was preparing.

The Crockpot wasn’t my favorite. I really liked the carrying case that came with it, but I usually used a different Crockpot. But I had left it with my ex when I moved out. It was the one he was used to, and I knew he liked to make soup in it. I figured it was easier for me to get used to something new.

I stood in the aisle, looking at all the Crockpot options. I realized unless I wanted a digital display, which I didn’t, my choices were limited. Once I looked at the sizes, the options narrowed even further.

I ended up getting the same one I’d left behind. Why not? I liked it. I knew it fit in my carrying case. It was familiar.

The same, yet different.

That phrase describes a lot in my life nowadays.

Change is sometimes brought on by a loud, surprising pop. We don’t have access to what we once did. But we can adjust if we’re willing.