Yesterday was a sad day.
In the morning, I did what I do on most Monday and Tuesday mornings.
I organized and measured my ingredients for whole wheat bread.
I dumped it all in the bread maker.
I set the machine for the dough cycle.
And then I sat down and got to work, knowing that in one hour and fifty minutes my dough would be ready to be kneaded, shaped, risen and baked.
I sat in silence, waiting for the 15 minute rest period to end, and the mixing to begin.
And when it did, I heard the most pitiful sound I have ever heard.
The sound of a broken bread maker trying to mix dough.
I knew this day was coming.
Over the past month or so, my bread maker has sounded like an over worked machine, working harder and harder each time it is instructed to do it's job.
I knew one of these days, I would turn it on, and it would tell me that it quit.
And yesterday, that day came.
My bread maker told me "I have had enough. I quit".
Even though I knew it was coming, I felt let down.
I screamed at my bread maker "Come on, you can do it! Just one more loaf!"
So, I reset it, and tried again.
And again, after the 15 minute resting period, the machine let me know that it would not be mixing another loaf of bread.
Thankfully, the FD's aunt rescued me and lent me her bread maker until I can either find a good sale on one or the FD can fix my old one.
Apparently, these things weren't made to be used multiple times a week.
Apparently, I worked my baby too hard.
So, farewell, dear bread maker.
You've done good.