September 30th, 2011, 9:55 p.m. The Wee Lass sleeps, I am alone in a cool room. The night surrounds.
It has been a year of posts for me, yesterday, to be exact. 365 days of posting once a day. A record for me I never intended to set, but once it came close I could not stop. It is good exercise, but it has left me exhausted in a creative sense. But I couldn't stop. Perhaps I should take a break, soon, revitalize and get some other things done. Tend to the garden, as it were.
It was made clear to me tonight, as I was wiping down the kitchen counters. I could see some bread crumbs scattered on the laminate, a wheaten corona around the humble silver carcass of my toaster. I realized I had not emptied the crumb tray in weeks, so I moved the toaster towards the leading edge of the counter in order to clean it. I slid the tray from its slot, and was amazed.
Two thin sheets of metal, a forked tongue in the mouth of the miniature dragon that browns my bread. They were obscured by a thick layer of parched crumbs, the detritus of multiple mornings of making toast. I considered briefly storing them in a jar in the vain hope I would remember to use them in a sauce or maybe to coat some fish for frying. But then I remembered how long it had been. There was probably dust in there, and some of the crumbs were so hard it might have been like eating sand. I tossed the crumbs in the rubbish bin, feeling slightly sad.
Those crumbs stayed on my mind as I sat down and tried (not) to write. My mind, a wetware toaster cranking out thoughts golden brown, crispy and hot. My crumb trays are getting full, though, and I need to empty them out. I let you know if I find any thing worth saving, amongst the dry and carbon black bits scattered on the bottom of my mind.