The blue ball with no mouth

Previously

…The toaster and spatula exchanged what I assumed was a meaningful glance. “Agreed,” the toaster rumbled. “For now,” the spatula added, with a distinct air of future negotiation. I nodded, a weary sense of relief washing over me. I’d saved my house. I’d saved the planet from sentient dust bunnies. And I’d managed to negotiate a peace treaty with my kitchenware. All in all, a successful Tuesday. Now, if only I could figure out how to explain the sentient blue ball in my Tupperware to the cat. That, I suspected, would be a whole other chapter.