It’s a love-hate relationship, really. But when it started, it was all love.
My mother-in-law gave me our toaster oven for Christmas a few years ago…before we were married. All digital. Push a button, door opens like a microwave. Toasts. Bakes. Broils. Black. Stainless Steel. Beautiful. It was love at first site.
Our relationship has slowly deteriorated since then to the point where it made an attempt on my life tonight. I’ve forgiven a lot. I’m not sure I can get past this.
The door started to stick a couple of years ago. This meant that opening the door required a little ingenuity and some creative maneuvering. Most of the time we could get it open if we pushed in the bottom of the door and pushed the button at the same time. Quite the feat when the oven was preheated to 375C!
But sometimes, it would require a little more…persuasion, shall we call it. This persuasion involved pounding on the button until the door popped open. A great way to get out your aggression!
Well, I believe the toaster oven has started it’s retaliation for years of abuse….by me. I should mention that my husband has always been able to keep a cool head while dealing with the toaster oven, so it seems to be showing no aggression towards him at this time.
Back to my story. I was riffling through a drawer directly beneath where the toaster oven sits, when the door popped open on it’s own, narrowly missing my face.
The morale of the story is, don’t abuse your appliances. One day, they might just fight back.
From now on, my husband will take over all transactions with the toaster oven.