I have a confession to make. It concerns our toaster.
You see, 37 and I have been using a toaster whose slots are too short for the bread we like for over a year now, but we were too lazy to go buy another one.
In one of life’s little ironic twists, it was the toaster, itself, that finally stepped up to the plate and motivated us to buy a new one by conking out. An act which gave me a lot more respect for this little toaster as I was chucking it into the dumpster.
I suppose if we would just eat traditional-sized, Wonder Bread, our toaster would have suited us just fine, but as aging baby boomers, we like to think that by eating 732-grain bread, that is too big for a standard-sized toaster — we might live well into our 90’s or beyond!
Anyway, on Saturday, 37 and I found ourselves in the neighborhood of Fry’s Home Electronics, a store that I am not a fan of but for some strange reason (I suspect witchcraft), 37 and I always end up buying stuff at.
So we figured it was as good a time as any to buy a toaster and soon found ourselves in the dimly-lit isles of the Fry’s appliance netherworld looking at toasters.
Soon a young clerk approached us whose age was somewhere between puberty and a legal drinker.
“May I help you?” he asked cheerfully enough, but I detected that trademark Fry’s Home Electronics Clerk Pity for an old couple, such as ourselves, who are no doubt seen as electronically retarded.
After we assured our clerk, Little Boy Blue, that we were just going to pick out a toaster, and we didn’t think we needed any help for that, he looked doubtful but went away momentarily, anyway, to let the geezers take a crack at it.
And oh what toasters there were to choose from! The one that really caught our eye was the one that had “Professional Toaster” engraved into its stainless steel.
37 and I were impressed as all get out with this professional toaster, as aging boomers in the dimly-lit isles of Fry’s Home Electronics often are:
“A professional toaster? Why would anyone need a professional toaster?”
“Well maybe if somebody wanted to make a little extra money, instead of taking in ironing, they could take in toasting.”
“What a great idea for a business: Have Toaster Will Travel!”
“Yeah, and we could go around to all the fairs and farmer’s markets and set up a toast booth!”
Just as 37 was declaring that this Professional Toaster opened up all kinds of possibilities that were heretofore unimaginable with toast, Little Boy Blue returned to asked us again if we needed any help — with some real concern creeping into his voice (maybe we had just had dual strokes or something).
When we finally decided on a toaster, and made the official announcement to Little Boy Blue, he hurried off to get the ladder (which was actually four flights of stairs on wheels), climbed 20 feet up in the air, grabbed the toaster from the tippy top of the stack and that’s when 37 yells,
“You can just throw it down, I’ll catch it!”
I don’t know what got into 37, maybe he was just trying to prove that he could still take one for the Gipper (whoever that is), but Little Boy Blue just looked at 37 like he was an Alzheimer escapee with Tourette’s and wisely ignored him.
Instead, Little Boy Blue climbed down and gently handed the toaster to 37 so as not to break any of 37’s brittle bones, and we headed off to the checkout counter because we remembered where it was and didn’t have to ask.
Mmm . . .as I write this, I can smell the unmistakable aroma of 732-grain, over-sized bread toasting in our new toaster. And if it turns out to be as good as it smells . . . who knows . . . 37 and I might just be turning pro with this thing!
Until next time . . . I love you