justwrite 22 november

Why does he always get the same kind of detergent? Look how many other kinds there are! He pauses to start to count them, but then realizes that this is sort of a pointless exercise. Who will he deliver this information to? Or, if he’s going to be such an English major, to whom will he deliver this information?

Ahhh. He could put it in his story. He loves it when stories have specific details like that. Would the grocery girl know something like this? It’s likely. Would she really work in a grocery store that had such a ridiculously broad selection of laundry detergent? Yes, he decides abruptly, and goes back to counting.

The resulting number is surprising. I’m just telling you—I was surprised, too.

He checks his pockets for something to write on or with. Of course he has nothing. He’ll just have to say the number over and over in his head. A woman would probably be able to write it down right away because she’d likely have a purse with the right materials inside. Am I trying to make a point? Am I saying that it should be socially acceptable for men to carry purses? Am I trying to say that men have better memories? No. I just mean Jason has nothing to write with or on, so he just has to remember the number. Stop asking so many questions—do you want him to forget this number?

Number.
Number.

Luckily he’s at the store well before most people are getting out of work, so there aren’t too many people in lines up front. However, there aren’t as many registers open. Seven is open, but there are two people already.

Enough with the other numbers!

Number.
Number.