On Fun With Grandmother

There is one thing that I hate most in this world.

Okay, maybe not hate, because that’s a bit strong. And maybe not most, because it’s a minor thing, really.

But I don’t like it. Can’t stand it. Don’t want to be near it.

And that’s burnt toast.

Burnt toast is smelly. Burnt toast is gross. The odors waft their way into the nostrils and they lodge there, never to be banished.

The smell of burnt toast gets the day off to a poor start.

Burnt toast.

My grandmother loves burnt toast.

Honestly, I think it’s because she doesn’t realize she’s burning it.

She’ll put it in the toaster, and the first time through it’s not toasted enough for her, so she’ll put it again.

And again.

And again.

Until the toast is clearly charred. Carboniferous. And odorific.

At that point, she realizes the toast is, well, toasted.

She’s always offering me toast. And it’s always charred. And the mere whiff gives me a pre-migraine.

Today, obviously, is one of those days. A day of burnt toast.

Today is prettier weather-wise than it was supposed to be. Yesterday was like a day out of early June — mid-seventies and gorgeous. But a cold front came through late yesterday, and with it came a torrential thunderstorm. While the weather looked threatening again in the morning, today turned out much like yesterday. And since it was a Saturday, and since it was nice outside, and since I need to do laundry, I did precisely that. I gathered up a load of laundry, trundled downstairs, into the machine it went, and then…

Some time later I couldn’t hear the washing machine. “Must be done,” I thought. I grabbed the laundry basket, went downstairs, and discovered that my grandmother had opened up the washing machine and shut it off. Very early in the cycle, too, as it was full of water.

She’s done this before.

The first time it happened I yelled at her. “Why did you shut off the washing machine?” I wanted to know.

“I didn’t shut off the washing machine,” she said. “I haven’t been down in the basement.”

“Well, if I didn’t do it, then who did?”

“It was someone from the gas company.”

“The gas company? They just walk into people’s homes and shut of washing machines.”

“Of course they do.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I did today what I did then — turn the washing machine back on, and not leave it.

The clothes are on the line. I love the smell of clothes that have been on the clothesline, in the open air. 🙂

Fortunately, when hanging the clothes she didn’t come outside and ask if a pile of leaves was a dead dog. Which is what she thought it was while I was fixing my morning coffee.

Sigh.

Published by Allyn

A writer, editor, journalist, sometimes coder, occasional historian, and all-around scholar, Allyn Gibson is the writer for Diamond Comic Distributors' monthly PREVIEWS catalog, used by comic book shops and throughout the comics industry, and the editor for its monthly order forms. In his over ten years in the industry, Allyn has interviewed comics creators and pop culture celebrities, covered conventions, analyzed industry revenue trends, and written copy for comics, toys, and other pop culture merchandise. Allyn is also known for his short fiction (including the Star Trek story "Make-Believe,"the Doctor Who short story "The Spindle of Necessity," and the ReDeus story "The Ginger Kid"). Allyn has been blogging regularly with WordPress since 2004.

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