The Other Toaster

I feel a little dirty. Like, perhaps, I shouldn't be telling you this. My husband brought home a newer, younger toaster.

He's often talked about bringing a newer model into our home - for years, in fact. I was the one who resisted. I've been faithful to one toaster for so long, the idea of trying something new - especially with the old toaster watching - feels more than awkward. It feels plain wrong.

My toaster and I go back nearly 50 years together. You don't just toss that aside like it didn't matter. Like it wasn't significant. My faithful toaster still resides in its usual space, underneath the counter. I've not displaced it. Meanwhile, the Other Toaster still sits, unopened, untouched in its box on the counter. I can hardly bear to look at it, much less toast with it.

And even though I haven't made a single move towards the new toaster, the old one protests by making toast even less appealing than before. It's never in the mood, it seems, to get hot on both sides of the bread. I have to stop and start and constantly readjust just to get a little toast. Is that too much to ask? I don't ask often. Maybe once a week, if that. But still, it takes coaxing.

My husband has been patient. He's waiting for us to get acquainted before he starts toasting on his own or we start toasting together.

I'm not willing to give up toast. I like toast. I'm even willing to try new things. But a new toaster? I hope my husband knows how much I love him just to even consider it.