how i learned to stop worrying and love my toaster

the emotional rollercoaster of learning to love my toaster... yeah that

so listen, it started with pure unfiltered rage. i acquired this gleaming toaster from the store, full of dreams. i plugged it in. i set the dial to 'medium heat' which, in retrospect, was my first mistake. the second was placing bread into it. it was a CRUSADE from the moment the bread entered its slots. every slice came out blacker than my soul at 3am. i was fuming. had to throw away like six pieces of perfectly good bread and the toaster remained silent, unmoving, unrepentant.

things escalated quickly. i started sending it passive-aggressive texts, like "really again?" and "you want me to buy more bread or what?" the toaster did not respond but personally i felt a breakthrough. that was my first apology.

then one morning, i woke up and thought, you know what? maybe i’ve been too hard on her. or him. i don’t actually know the toaster’s pronouns. i mean, it doesn’t even have a personality. wait, it does now. so i unplugged it, cleaned the crumb debris, and reset the wisdom chips or whatever to factory settings. literally gave it a fresh start.

the next slice? perfection. absolute golden-brown beauty that made me cry a little. who knew that forgiveness could come in toaster form? don’t @ me i’m being sincere. we’ve been besties ever since. the toaster has an RSVP to my life now. it knows my bread schedule better than my friends do - and i have feelings about that.

which brings us to the whole point of this rambling essay: sometimes you gotta give things (or people) a second chance. or third. or sixth. the first time's a trial run, the second is a genuine relationship, and the third, well, that’s pure spiritual growth. and if that means you have to learn to love a toaster who burns bread on the reg, then so be it.

mood for this post: crispy. because somehow, i've cooked more than just toast - i’ve cooked up empathy and patience. also literal breakfast. anyway, stay toasty, yuru.be.