When I got home from my three weeks in California, I wanted a piece of toast, some peanutbutter, and a glass of milk before I went to bed. I was thwarted every time I pushed the lever down to toast the bread. Every time.
Now, my toaster isn’t the world’s most efficient piece of machinery. It is old enough that it sometimes has to be coaxed to do the job twice—or at least one and a half times—to make toast. I’m kind of fussy about that toast stuff. I like toast, not warmed bread. So, when I was continually denied even the possibility of warmed bread, I thought, “Well, I guess that’s that. The toaster has given up the ghost. It’s dead. Time to suck it up and by a new toaster.”
Two days later, after lamenting the lack of toast in my life, I went to WalMart and finally decided which of the models I liked. Of course, they didn’t have any more of them in stock. I decided to stop at Target on my way home; it’s less than a mile from my house, so it wasn’t going to be a big deal. As I stood in Target assessing toasters, I tried to get a feel for each of their springs and (as I did in Walmart), pushed the lever down on every machine that looked interesting in my price range. Each one popped up without staying latched down. It suddenly dawned on me that they have to be plugged in to stay down.
I got home. I walked in the door. I glanced to my right. Sure enough . . . the toaster was unplugged.
photo courtesy of Andrzej Pobiedziński