Monday, August 01, 2011
I still can't find my toaster
As much as I want to discuss the embarrassing little problem I have of having NO IDEA how to hook up our television, or even if our television, an 80s model, will even work anymore, or if I have to actually go out and buy all- new digital appliances, I am far more concerned about the whereabouts of our toaster.
My toaster, along with my silverware, my salad spinner, and my supermodel potato peeler, are all still MIA.
This is not to say I'm positive these things aren’t safely packed away somewhere in a box upstairs. It’s just to say, my kitchen is still maddeningly incomplete. While having more than two forks has its limits, it’s the toaster we really miss. We like toast. Toast makes our world go round. Life without toast holds no promise for us.
And about those two forks, and the motley assortment of pots and pans: It's starting to look as if they aren't upstairs after all. The only boxes I can find that haven't been opened, are labeled "books" or "CDs", or "candle sticks." (Candle sticks, for the record, were the wedding gift of choice for at least fifty percent of our wedding guests, for some reason.)
One obstacle for finding these lost items has to do with the fact that our attic still has no window, it's on Ian's list, and it's been hotter than Hades for weeks now, limiting my attic-foraging window to approximately 15 minutes before I start to sweat, feel nauseous and as if I might possibly pass out.
Another obstacle is my memory. It's failing me.
Did I actually think it was a good idea, the nice thing to do-- poor college boys don't even have a frying pan--letting three under 20- year- old boys use my Williams and Sonoma all -clad sauce pans (another, particularly awesome wedding present) They were so sturdy looking, so beefy, such good quality I suppose I figured they were idiot proof. Apparently nothing is idiot proof. At least not the idiots I've been dealing with.
Those pots seem to have vanished, or melted, or somehow or other evaporated into the ether. The tops are still in the drawers, that’s how I know I must have been that dumb to leave them out, but the pots are nowhere. I did find one of the smallest sauce pans, the one I often used to heat up milk, or maple syrup. It was outside the basement door, filled with dirt, hidden in the tall grass.
And my electric kettle. I found the base for that. The rest must have exploded. Or maybe it was turned into a bong? And the salad spinner...I found the top for that.
And my silverware? That is the real pressing question. I would swear I remember packing it all away, wrapping it up in newspaper and putting it into a box, sealing that box, and putting it upstairs in the attic or in the bottom of the hutch. But I haven’t found it yet. I have found relatively few boxes with anything of substance in them. Some baking tins, lots of place mats, some wooden spoons, my bowls, glasses, a ridiculous amount of wine glasses, and plates, hurray, but no silverware. And no toaster.
The fact that there is one fork, one spoon, and one knife that I recognize as being from our collection in the drawer worries me a bit. Is it possible I left them with the entire collection of knives, forks and spoons and they lost or ruined them, on by one, in just two years? Of course it is.
But I’m still holding out hope. Naively. Bravely. Stubbornly.
And that toaster, the retro one with four slice capacity and the dials that made it look like a 50's radio? I'm going out back to dig around in the bonfire pit for that.
There is the remote possibility that our toaster died, or ran away, as the result of being abandoned. That little seed of irrational logic was planted long ago by a Banjo Dan song, Snowfall; "wouldn't my toaster miss me if I moved away?"
Problems far more pressing than runaway toasters can be read about over here at Momformation.
Disclaimer: that's not really our toaster. Our toaster wasn't robin's egg blue, just your basic stainless steal toaster color.