Just Stand There

DON'T JUST DO SOMETHING! STAND THERE

As a person of foreign descent living in America, I quickly learned, rightly or not, that I should always be doing something. I'm sure each of us, as parents, children, employers, employees, supervisors, workers, in some situation or other, have said or been told, "Don't just stand there! Do something." Well, sometimes, the reverse can be forced upon us.

Inspiration can come in many ways. For this hub and the above title came from - a broken toaster. This is what happened. After taking the kids to school, I made my cup of tea (au lait) as usual before I heading to my study to attend to e-mail, read online news, and get the day going. With my tea, I like to have a couple of slices of bread and this morning toast was on my mind. So I popped a couple of slices in the toaster and thought while that took care of itself, I could pay John a short visit. I knew that sometimes the toaster did not spit out the bread when it was done and one had to stand close by just in case. But I was confident that I would be back before the toast was ready.

In John's waiting room, my wife has supplied guests with an assortment of magazines for light reading while---. I picked one and thumbed through it scanning one article after another. I do this for general knowledge so that I can have an appreciation of various subjects. Finally I set it down knowing I had overstayed my welcome.

When I stepped out of John's chamber, I ran into a thick white low-lying cloud whose upward progress was obviously constrained by the ceiling. I knew right away my toast was toast. I ran into the kitchen, and saw what looked like a miniature house emitting billowing smoke that ascended straight up before fanning out in a cloud at the ceiling. It was quite a fascinating sight and to me as a videographer, it crossed my mind to film the scene... for what? Maybe YouTube? The thought lasted only a moment before I realized it was a death wish. This amount of smoke would trigger the detector, which would wake my wife who would kill me, first because she has been awakened and secondly, her house is full of smoke. (Notice that I said her house. My study is my sole sanctuary in our... I mean, her house.) Now sober, I yanked the toaster from the wall and took it and its smoking contents out into the yard. I ran back into the house thankful that the alarm had not yet gone off. I ran upstairs, threw all the windows in every room open and turned on the fans. I came back downstairs and did the same. A couple of minutes went by with no alarm and I knew I'd saved the day (read, "my skin").

But I still had toast on my mind. I grabbed a couple of other slices and tossed them in the toaster. Determined not to make the same mistake, I stood by the toaster to wait it out. As I hopped from one foot to another, I looked at the floor and noticed one of those sticky spots I hate. Then I saw another... and another. Instinctively, I went for the mop, while cursing the likely suspect. I also noticed the floor had not been swept. And someone had smeared jelly all over the counter. Before I knew it, I was engrossed in the task cleaning and wiping. "Someone will have some explaining to do this evening," I promised myself. Then I smelled it - something was burning. "I thought I had aired the house out. Why the smell of smoke?" I asked myself. Shoot! The toaster had started letting out another fine stream of smoke. This time I popped up the slices and took them straight out to the garbage. To say the least I was more than a little upset with myself. The windows were still open but I had to get the doors once more. Though not a greater a crisis this time, it was still annoying. And I still hadn't had my tea and toast.

Alright. Three's a charm. Into the toaster went two slices once more - and I surely wasn't going anywhere this time. I had to stand there and do nothing. Well... not really. I could think and observe. I watched the heating elements turn red and thought of the electrons that flowed through the wires in a current and the whole process of turning electrical energy into heat energy. I thought of myself hopping from one leg to another and realized I have life. I'm alive. I woke up this morning. I'm hungry. I want tea - tea with toast. I can taste it even before I have it. I detect the lingering smell of smoke. I can recall. I have memory. I feel. I remember panicking that the alarm would go off and wake my wife... and I would be no more. No longer able to have my tea and toast. "No. I'd better watch this toast. I've had enough drama for the day." I surmised. Sure enough the bread turned golden brown and I took it out, spread some butter and jelly on it. I warmed my tea and settled down to a simple breakfast. The bliss! Heaven can wait. I'm halfway there.

So for all it's worth, you are reading this hub thanks to a broken toaster.