My toaster, which used to be a noble and honest appliance that only burned bread, now has WiFi. WiFi! A toaster! Why does a toaster need internet? Is it going to check its email? "Dear Toaster: Your bread has been successfully processed. Sincerely, Wonder Bread."

And the worst part, the absolute worst part, is that these devices listen. ALL. THE. TIME. My Alexa knows more about my life than my therapist. And she charges less, but at least my therapist doesn't sell my information to Amazon so they can offer me discounted antidepressants.

Welcome, dear digital paranoids, to another session of technological therapy...