Our toaster oven has been gradually dying for a while, and yesterday it gave up the fight for good.
“Can you fix the toaster?” Gene asked me pleadingly. I am pretty sure he was kidding around, but I happened to be re-reading Y: The Last Man* at the time and suddenly I was flooded with vividly-inked empowerment.
“I can!” I said. “I can fix the toaster!”
And before you could say Gloria Steinem, I had that baby upside down on the table and was mercilessly removing screws with a power screwdriver. And IT WAS GOOD. I was in control! I was fixing stuff! I was using a tool! I was…staring at the swarm of wires and circuitry inside, where I had expected to see something fixable. A recalcitrant toaster elf, say, who could be reasoned with.
Gene, of course, knew all along that the toaster does not run on elf power. Gene spent much of his adolescence learning things like how to fix a toaster or program in C++. Me, I spent my adolescence learning to cast spells and read the Tarot. I tried casting a spell to fix the toaster but so far it hasn’t kicked in. I think I bought slow-acting eye of newt or something.
If this doesn’t work, I may try utilizing the other life skill I learned in my adolescence: shopping. New toaster! I am all over that.
Seriously, though. I am getting tired of being useless. Luckily, nearly everything in the house is broken (toaster, lamps, TV, my phone), so there are plenty of things for me to learn to fix.
*Y: The Last Man is a series of graphic novels about what happens to the world when all the men suddenly die. What happens mostly is that women step up to the plate, both in the useful way and in the warmongering way. My favorite side character is the supermodel-turned-grave-digger.