Toast

My babysitting employer called me last night to say that, due to the unusually sluggish housing market, my services will no longer be afforded. Understandable, since the child's father is a realtor, but I am sad nonetheless. I will miss the gas money, and I will miss the little boy even more. He is such a love.
So, now I have six more hours of free time each week. What to do? The toaster was staring at me this morning and I stared back, noting how dirty the thing was. When was the last time someone cleaned you? No answer. I spent the next twenty minutes cleaning my toaster. It often stands on the counter next to the stovetop, so it gradually takes on a sticky patina of spattered oil, laying a nice foundation for any dust or crumbs that get near it. Just wiping it with a wet rag does no good; it simply smears the grease around. So, I took a soapy rag to the thing and wiped off as much of the gook as I could before I had to take the next child to school. It looks much nicer now, though still not like new. Maybe tomorrow I will get around to emptying the crumb tray.