A Tale of Betrayal

It has finally happened... I knew it would happen sooner or later. I knew we couldn't last forever but I never allowed myself to dwell on it for long. I never wanted to think of the inevitable.
We have finally parted ways. All I have are memories now...

For my birthday this year, my thoughtful colleagues left a homemade card shaped like an oven with a little angbao within, on my desk. (The mighty red angbao is a tiny little envelope Chinese use to contain money as a wellwishing offer in place of a present.) This was their gift to me this year ever since I yakked non-stop about having to get a new oven sooner or later before my old one exploded in my face. It has been smoking on several occasions with no provocation and one some days, everything seemed fine.

So I finally got round to shopping for another and well... I selected one. All I cared about was the capacity. I needed something bigger so I could dump my oven thermometer alongside my 12- muffin tray within. It was delivered today and I found I was strangely un-enthusiastic about it.
I just pointed at the biggest 43 litres from a brand I recognized and paid. I didn't even get to see how it looked like considering they didn't have any of that capacity on display.

My old table oven is now sitting on the floor and in its glorious place? My spanking new oven. The newbie has an ebony facade and is encased in an sleek metal of opaque white. It also has a rotisserie function, along with grilling. The glass reinforced door does not close into a sealed space, it merely covers. I suppose this is to enable the grilling function, where the glass door is to be kept open. All 42 litres of this honking metal looks ... foreign somehow. I can almost feel its snooty metallic nose looking over my old puny table oven, in disdain. Flashbacks of me and oldie run through my head, against the overcast sky (see? the heavens are crying too). Scenes of how oldie regurgitated baked and roasted wonders with a giggle, while I coo-ed at her achievement. Scenes of how oldie pumped up its temperatures instantaneously when I was stressing over preparations for dinner parties, of how oldie played nanny over the turkey, watching it like a hawk, during Christmas.

I am a traitor. Oldie gets old and cranky and for her loyal service to me throughout the past 9 years, I reward by discarding it. I am a louse. I have no regard for loyalty and if anything should age on me, I reward them by throwing them into the nearest dumpster. I haven't thrown oldie yet. I need some grieving time.

I am bereft.


(Decorum insists that I display pictures of newbie as an appreciation of the gift from others)