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this is a story about a toaster:
four score and seven years ago, i was a young lass of 21 (pause for the obligatory “YOU’RE NOT 21?!” compliments. and no, thank you.) on the verge of walking down the aisle. as is customary in this land, the young couple goes to a store (or 3!)
four score and seven years ago, i was a young lass of 21 (pause for the obligatory “YOU’RE NOT 21?!” compliments. and no, thank you.) on the verge of walking down the aisle. as is customary in this land, the young couple goes to a store (or 3!)
and selects items to go on a gift registry so the bride can sit at a party in her honor, opening the gifts and pretending she hasn’t been checking her registry every day to see what people have been buying. 
during the selection process, i chose a toaster. i don’t remember it
during the selection process, i chose a toaster. i don’t remember it
at this point, but as i only have good taste, i’m sure it was lovely. except. “but i already have a toaster.” came the voice of my fiancé, resolute in his pre-argument position. i stared blankly at him. surely he must be joking? “but it’s so old.....and.....ugly.” didn’t matter.
the toaster was staying. you must understand that while i’d tricked this man into proposing to me, i still hadn’t gotten him locked into wedded bliss, so i fought all my natural instincts and agreed to life with this toaster. “it’s so old, it’ll die soon anyway.” i thought.
let me tell you about this toaster. it’s white and stained, it doesn’t hold the big bread, it barely has room for bagels, and he bought it second-hand, so i’m pretty sure it did some time in a crack house. upon seeing it for the first time while living in temporary housing, a
friend of mine exclaimed “they gave you this janky-ass thing?” “no. that’s actually ours.” i replied, head hung in shame. she giggled.
i am staring down the barrel of nearly 14 years married to this man, and the toaster remains. it’s there, after every move. and we move A LOT.
i am staring down the barrel of nearly 14 years married to this man, and the toaster remains. it’s there, after every move. and we move A LOT.
it never breaks, it never gets lost or stolen. it sits on my counter. ugly. stupid. reliable.
this morning, as i was prepping breakfast, i sliced a sesame seed bagel in half, and tossed it in the toaster, half aware of what was happening, and pushed the lever down. it popped back
this morning, as i was prepping breakfast, i sliced a sesame seed bagel in half, and tossed it in the toaster, half aware of what was happening, and pushed the lever down. it popped back
up. pushed it down. popped back up. down. up. down. up. “IS THIS IT? IS THE END?!” i thought, as i stood there triumphantly, watching the toaster button pop up in defeat, no longer able to perform its only function. “i’m gonna get one that hold 4 slices! and brews my coffee!”
and then.
“what if it’s the outlet?” an unwelcome thought, really. but unlikely. this toaster has been around since the days of methuselah. it has outlived the dowager countess of grantham. this HAS to be it.
confident in my perspective, i unplug it and walk it over to another
“what if it’s the outlet?” an unwelcome thought, really. but unlikely. this toaster has been around since the days of methuselah. it has outlived the dowager countess of grantham. this HAS to be it.
confident in my perspective, i unplug it and walk it over to another
outlet. plug it in, push the button down......
and it stays. it toasts the damn bagel, and i’m left staring, mouth agape, at the wonder that is this small appliance.
i butter it, put it on a plate, and give my husband his breakfast. i tell him what happened. he laughs. “do you
and it stays. it toasts the damn bagel, and i’m left staring, mouth agape, at the wonder that is this small appliance.
i butter it, put it on a plate, and give my husband his breakfast. i tell him what happened. he laughs. “do you
really want a new toaster?” he asks. i think about it for a minute and then say, “no. we have a thing now, this toaster and me. i’ll just let it die.”
and this is why women are so confusing to men.
and this is why women are so confusing to men.
