Disclaimer: I wish they were, but they're not. Mine, that is.
Kicking Carter
Why are bowls always circular? Is that just a characteristic of a bowl, like
roundness is a characteristic of a ball, or could it be changed? She hadn't seen
many square bowls, not that she had really noticed, but it seemed that circles
monopolized the bowl franchise. She swore to herself as she took another spponful
of Captain Crunch and shoved it in her mouth, that next time she bought a bowl, it
would have to be a square one.
Sometimes Lucy, you scare yourself.
She slowly got up from the kitchen table, dragging herself to the sink where she
placed the circular bowl along with the rest of unwashed dishes that were all
sorts of shapes and sizes. Good, she thought, at least there was diversity
among the rest of her dishes.
Maybe, she thought as she headed to her living room, there was someone out there
who also cared, or at least thought about the diversity of their dishes. Maybe someday she'll
meet him, and they'll get married and have kids who will care about dishes and all the school
kids will make fun of them and they'll grow up and be crazy and neurotic. Maybe she shouldn't
find someone like that. Maybe she shouldn't have kids at all.
She sighed, finding herself both humorous and depressing. she sat on the couch, realizing
what people said about wanting something only when you didn't have it was true. She hated having nightshifts.
No matter how tired she was she could never sleep a good sleep when the sun was shining.
And so, as she had done for the past month and a half or so, she turned on her television
and watched the only thing on television at two in the afternoon besides Sesame Street, which
she did occasionally turn to: soap operas!
Peviously, Max had slept with Deidra only to realize he was in love with Susan who was also
in love with Deidra but could never tell her because Susan was actually the love child of
Deidra's long lost father. And that was only in the last two weeks. Everyone had a love-life
on soap operas, even the little five year old had a crush on the next door neighbor. Hell,
even the two puppies hooked up. And she wondered how people as screwed up as the people on
these shows could have someone while she sat at home or at work every Friday night, alone.
And then she reminded herself with a relieved sigh that these were fictional characters, fictional
meaning they weren't real and therefore had no control over who they did it with.
That was a close one, she thought as she went to find Sesame Street.
Ahh. Sesame Street. Simple, yet intrigingly complex at times. Especially when one tries to
figure out how Big Bird can stay in that getup without spontaneously combusting,
or how puppeters can keep their hands up that long without their arms falling asleep.
Was there an arm rest? Some sort of machine? Or did the puppeters take shifts, one
would rest while the other one puppeted, or whatever one did as a puppeter? She didn't
know. Ernie and Bert were always her personal favorites, no matter what anyone said
about Elmo. And she did enjoy any appearances by the rarely seen yep-yeps,or so she called
them, for they did not have a formal name to her knowledge. And then, quite sadly, she
realized that her knowledge of Sesame Street was great, much greater than any normal
twenty-four year old's should be. Sure, she could blame it on the change in shifts,
or her unwillingness to sleep during the daytime, but the truth was there were much
more productive things she could be doing.
Like washing the diverse dishes and the round bowls, or vacuming, or dusting,
or exercizing . . .
Lucy changed the channel with a flick of her thumb in search of better television.
Surfing, she was surfing. Couldn't that be considered exercise? Her thumb moved
at rapid speeds, she had to be using some kind of muscles. Her thumb continued moving
as she glanced forlongingly at the tai-bo tapes she had purchased a short while after
her little brush with the exercise form. She hadn't used them much, though, it just
wasn't the same unless you had someone to kick who was kind of fun to kick. Like Carter.
And if every man she kicked ended up like Carter, she'd practice so much she'd be a tai-bo
master.
But there was no one to kick, and the tapes just sat on her television collecting dust.
Maybe she should go outside, get some fresh air. After all, she had been in the hospital
all night, and now she was in the house, sitting on her butt. Besides it was a beautiful
day, the sun was shining, shining so bright she couldn't sleep but that was not the point.
If all she was going to do was sit, she should at least go outside and sit.
But going outside would involve getting up, she reasoned. And getting up would involve
getting dressed and out of her extremely comfortable pajamas, and she just wasn't ready
for that.
And now she was really stuck: out of all of her seventy-seven channels there was nothing
on. Nothing. Zip. Eihter get overeducated on shows geared towards preschool children, or
live vicariously through uunderdeveloped soap opera characters. Hmmm. Toughie. And with one
bold movement, Lucy did something she hadn't done in a month and a half of nightshifts and
sleepless days; she turned off the television and got up.
Suddenly she felt liberated. Like she could do anything, be anyone, and not have to live
vicariously through soap characters. No more critiquing Sesame Street, no more staring at
cereal bowls. She began to march to her bedroom to change her clothes, change into something
with bright vibrant colors when the phone caught her gaze. A thought came into her head, and for
a second, she considered what could happen if she did what she wanted to and what would happen if
she didn't do what she wanted to. And every second she thought about it, it became more and more
appealing until she reached for her phonebook, quickly finding a number she had almost forgotten she
had. She picked up the receiver and dialed the number, her fingers lingering on the buttons as she wondered
if he was even home, or what he would say. It began to ring, and Lucy's heart skipped a beat as the ringing
stopped and a male voice came over the ear piece.
"Hey Carter. It's Lucy. Are you busy? Cause I have these tai-bo tapes . . ."
