The title of this post is not a joke. The pinnacle of my achievements this weekend was the purchase of a mood kettle. For serious. Our kettle has moods.

 

You read that? It’s the first stainless kettle to mood light your kitchen. I can just imagine the shit that went down at the head offices of rival kettle manufacturers the day this baby hit the production line.

“Those bastards at Breville have beaten us to the mood light punch. And it’s fucking stainless! Better step up production on the mind-reading kettle. They won’t see that one coming. Any chance we can have it out before Christmas?”

Incidentally, I would totally show you pictures of our kettle displaying its many moods, but J has gone away to Copenhagen for a week on business and he’s taken the memory card for the camera with him (but not the actual camera – wtf sweetheart?), so I can’t. Which is a real shame because I was hoping for your input on what all the various moods might mean. It appears the good people at Breville didn’t include a handy guide, you see, which means we have quite an enigmatic mood kettle.

I walked into the kitchen this morning and the kettle was bright red, so either it was an angry angry kettle, furious with me for heartlessly filling it with water and forcing it (against its will!) to boil. Or it was a loving, tender, romantic kettle, deeply enamoured of me for allowing it to fulfil its kettley destiny by making my morning tea. You see the confusion. Last night it was a kind of greyish-purple, which I have decided is a sign of mild kettle ennui. Is boiling water all there is? It expected so much more from life.

Once, just once, it would like to have a try at making toast.