The stove sits there, waiting for attention. All gleaming white with black burners, its busy holding the tea kettle and griddle. Two dish towels are tossed carelessly over the oven handle. No one talks to the stove. It just gets turned on, turned off and wiped down. It doesn’t get decorated like the refrigerator. The fridge is a monolith of magnets and photos. It feels proud. “Hmph”, says the stove. Where would you all be without me?” The old microwave across the room replies in a creaky voice, “They still need me.” The stove just laughs. “You’re only good for heating things up. I cook.” The microwave huddles closer to the wall for it knows this is true. The coffee maker and toaster start hopping around. “Hey, what about us? They need us,” they cry out. The stove says, “I suppose that’s true but I’m the most important.” Suddenly there’s a rumbling from the fridge. “Enough of this foolishness,” it says in its cool, frosty voice. “We are the kitchen. We must work together or they will start eating out. I have seen this before.” The coffee maker and toaster stop jumping around. The ancient microwave settles back into its corner with a sigh. The fridge speaks the truth. The stove has to acknowledge the wisdom of the fridge. It begins the long vigil until breakfast, waiting for attention.
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