Nic Narrates

Apparently, I’ve over-stayed my welcome in my single gal apartment.

My small appliances have been staging a slow but steady protest, nay revolt, against me over the past seven or eight months and it’s reaching fever pitch.

Without much fanfare, it began one nondescript day when the blender up and refused to blend. It simply would not budge. Would not chop, mix, stir, nor liquefy. I know this because I stood there pushing all manner of buttons, giving it a shake to and fro, to no avail. No smoothie for you!

Shortly thereafter, the vacuum took up with the blender. That’s not to say that they ran away together like the dish and the spoon, but they certainly were in cahoots. The vacuum went passive aggressive on me, pushing dirt around the room. Oh, you wanted ME to pick that up? Well, I never…. At this point, I’m thinking the only real purpose my vacuum would serve is to call dibs on a shoveled parking spot in winter (if I still had a car).

And then there is the sorted tale of the Crock Pot. I’ve resigned it permanently to POW status (it is an all but foregone casualty of The Break Up along with my favorite pajama pants). I only mention it now because I am certain that it does not mourn me as I do it (it hasn’t even written!), and I therefore lump it in alongside its plotting extended relatives. But oh the soups and roasts we used to make!

Taken together, all this dysfunction might have been chalked up to a fine coincidence of domestic strife. But then the impressionable toaster was persuaded to join into the fray.

As I happily bopped about the kitchen one morning, reading the paper online and keeping the teapot on the stove from getting all uppity- overzealously squealing and such- my toaster began to smell….funny. Nose-scrunchingly funny. By the time I got it to spit out the bagel it was toiling to toast, it shot out some flames as well. Well, I’ll be, I thought, aren’t WE the show off this morning! (Also, there might have been some swearing.)

Although said toaster would clearly rather not, I continue to press it into service from time to time, undeterred by its would-be pyrotechnics. Yes, yes, that’s a good little toaster. I’ll just hold the handle down while you decide what you’d like to do with this bread. By all means, take your time.

Which brings me to my point: thanks to all the extra time I spend standing at the toaster these days, while it considers its job description and I count the dust bunnies strewn about by my unamused vacuum cleaner, I’ve come to realize something.

I’m at the point in my life where all those affordable (cheap), trendy (crappy), stand-in (because in your early/ mid-twenties you probably aren’t doing anything much that’s domestic) appliances are beginning to break down. And the thing is, most people (it seems) avoid the hassle of having to replace said appliances because they’re busy REGISTERING for new ones. AHA!!!!!!

Here comes the…..stainless steel blender with the glass pitcher, the roller-ball Dyson that never loses suction (seriously, how freaking awesome does that thing look?), and the bagel-friendly toaster with the easy-to-clean crumb tray. And herein lies the fun and unexpected single gal dilemma.

Do I really want to “go all in” given the fact that maybe someday there might be another person, another home, even perhaps a registry? Do I really want to spring for the Dyson now? Or do I want to wait for, for….what exactly? Exactly.

While the debate rages on internally, luck would have it that the appliances have chosen to play their trump card. They’ve enlisted the coffee maker, who let’s face it, should know better. Not to be left out, it appears to be developing a bit of a hiccup, bristling at the idea of not burning the shit out of every pot of coffee it produces.

Don’t tell Mr. Coffee this, but I suspect he’s merely acting out for attention. Which quite frankly, until I’ve had my coffee, will get him nowhere.