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It’s fair to say I have an affinity for ancient appliances and the environment. This means, in practical terms, that I am loathe to discard a fridge, iron, or eggbeater just because, with age, it begins to display a few hiccups.

And don’t— hear me when I say this—don’t be messing with my toaster. 

Specifically, my mid-century (which I bought decades before that became a trend) vintage Sunbeam Radiant Shade-Control Auto-drop toaster. I adore it. It’s so Jetsons with its chrome sides and nifty black handles. I love the way I have to drop a slice of bread from precisely the right height to create an imperceptible bounce in the mechanism within the slots, which slowly—magically—lowers the bread before the toasting begins. A lever on the side gives me the heady choice of choosing ‘light, medium, or dark’ toast. And as a good friend that knows you so well you needn’t speak, it always gives me dark toast regardless of where the lever is positioned because it knows that’s what I prefer.

So when Paul and I were watching a particularly creepy murder mystery drama last week, I jumped at the sight of headlights coming down our long drive. 

“Who’s that?” I asked nervously, expecting the same knife-wielding killer to exit the vehicle. “And at this time of night?”

Paul glanced at his phone. “It’s 6:30, and it’s Amazon.”

“Amazon? What did you order?”

There was no reply until he met the driver and carried a cardboard box into the kitchen. Placing it upon the counter and slicing through the tape, he lifted a gleaming, brand-new black and chrome…TOASTER.

“What the hell is that?” I gasped, filled with betrayal.

Paul patted his purchase. “A new Black and Decker toaster.”

“But we have one! And it works fine.”

“No,” he attempted to correct me, “YOU have one. I told you I’m not going to use it anymore. It doesn’t work.”

“It works fine! You’re just too impatient.” 

“It caught on fire three times last week,”  Paul said. “I had to take it onto the deck because it was on FIRE.”

“That’s because you buy cheap bread!” I shot back. Paul rolled his eyes and guffawed.

“It’s true! You buy cheap bread that doesn’t stand up straight. It falls over onto the heating element and is so thin and flimsy that it spontaneously bursts into flame. It’s not the Sunbeam’s fault you buy cheap bread.”

“Well,” Paul replied, “You can keep your death-trap Sunbeam, and I’ll use my new Black and Decker.” 

It rankles to admit that Paul’s new toaster does blend wonderfully well with our fridge, oven and dishwasher which are all black with vintage replicated brushed nickel hardware and handles. But I’m loyal— I don’t throw anything over for a pretty new face.

Concerned that the Sunbeam was feeling as does an old dog when a puppy is introduced to the household, complete with the doleful expression that asks, “You’re waiting for me to die, aren’t you?” I gave it an extra polish so that it’s chrome sparkled.

Both toasters share the same outlet and sit side by side on the counter. The loyal housewife and the mistress.

“Yeah,” I remarked snidely to the Black and Decker, “Let’s see if you’re still working in 60 years…”