The crew have made the best of the sleeping arrangements.
On the morning of day four, Sam awoke, stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and reached into the freezer for the Toaster Strudel. A rare treat around here which he earned for enduring to the end in seminary. He had rationed them carefully and was looking forward to one for breakfast. He stepped over to the spot where the toaster has perched faithfully all the mornings we have lived here.
But it was gone:
I knew we had the toaster from the cabin packed and headed to Connecticut so the extra toaster here was just that--extra.
In a fit of efficiency I had given it away.
And pushed Sam over the edge.
"The toaster? Really? Why the toaster? How am I supposed to toast my
toaster strudel without a toaster?!"
Luckily he is a good Scout and he devised another way to toast the strudel.
Crisis averted for the moment.
The threat of mutiny arose again a few hours later when Shane went to make toast
and noticed the missing appliance.
I feel the tension.
The crew could turn on me at any moment.
They have the dog on their side--they feed him and play fetch with him.
I am certainly outnumbered.
I shall have to keep a sharp eye out. A sharp eye.