I’ve long suspected that my toaster is plotting something. Not out of any deeply held belief in sentient kitchenware, you understand, but because it simply feels too knowing. Its chrome glint catches the morning light with what can only be described as smugness. It pops the toast an inch too soon, as if to say, “Timing is … Continue reading The Secret Lives (and Afterlives) of Objects: A Meditation in Dust and Cup Handles