“If your furniture, appliances, and other inanimate objects at home had feelings and emotions, to which item would you owe the biggest apology?”
I’m sorry but as soon as I saw this particular daily prompt I literally laughed out loud. I thought it was an awesome and humorous question to ask, and even though it was posted earlier this month, I really wanted to answer it.
I would owe quite a few items apologies. I guess I could say my floor deserves the biggest apology because I allow everyone to walk all over it, but I know that’s not what the prompt is talking about. The Wii U gets a lot of hate from both my husband and I, he doesn’t like it because it’s a childish console and not as great as the Xbox or Playstation, I’m angry at it because I expected better games to be out for it by now, it’s been a huge disappointment. But we still use it for Netflix and Hulu so it’s not completely neglected. My washer gets a lot of hate for all the issues we’ve had with it, but when it’s working it does a good job of washing our clothes and I’m appreciative of some of the flaws it has, like the lid lock doesn’t work. I sometimes like to watch the clothes agitate and spin (to make sure they’re really getting clean) and I don’t want a modest washer that won’t let me peek at it while it’s working.
The prompt doesn’t mention if they have sight or other senses, but if they did, I definitely owe the stuffed animals on our headboard the biggest apology of all, for reasons that I’m sure are obvious.
But I need to narrow it down to one, and that is pretty tough. I’ve wronged plenty of inanimate objects in my life and I owe them all restitution. I guess since living here I really should apologize to our gas stove. I hate it, I don’t like it, I prefer electric. And my mom is famous for making innocent things seem dreadful and full of danger and just generally thinking of the worst case scenario and she was panicked for me upon learning our new house had a gas stove. I love you, but, really Mom? We have detectors to make sure it’s not leaking gas, and I know this is an issue our housing office takes seriously so I don’t think they would let us live in a house with defective gas lines or stoves. I can sleep soundly at night, not worrying over a murderous stove on the first floor (even though it certainly has motive for killing us). My friend who lives next door has a fancier stove than ours, so that also brought a new thing to hate about it. It doesn’t tell us when it’s pre-heated and it doesn’t have a digital display or controls which I miss about our last house’s oven. The tray underneath that is suppose to be used to store our baking pans is too small and narrow to fit anything but our tiniest pizza pan, and I learned the hard way I can’t even store that under there because the heat from the stove burned it black.
So, gas stove, I am sorry I hate you so much. I’m sorry that my hands slip and sometimes your oven door slams shut. I’m sorry that when I burned my arm as I pulled a tray of chicken out of you, that I cursed you and then promptly dropped said tray on top of you. I’m sorry that we seriously considered dragging you out to the shed and replacing you with an electric stove of our choosing, and that the only reason we didn’t is because we don’t know how to replace a gas stove and we didn’t want to risk doing it incorrectly and leaking your fuel everywhere. I’m sorry I judge you based on your looks because you’re not a very pretty stove. I’m sorry I couldn’t get use to your smell for weeks, so I avoided using you as much as possible. I do thank you for making our dinner most nights, and for boiling the sweet tea I love to drink, even if it takes you nearly twice as long as our last stove to bring things to a boil.
Was that not a very good apology? I’m sorry I’m not more sorry. You are, after all, an inanimate object and I don’t feel that bad about hating you because I know we only have to deal with you for three years, and then you will be someone else’s problem. Or joy. I know a lot of people prefer gas stoves, and I’m sorry I’m not one of them.