justwrite 3 november

In fact, this is not a story about Maureen. Having peered in closely at her habits, we’ll backtrack to a wider angle, or at least try. But why not Maureen? You probably think now that she’s some kind of unclean deviant or a completely uninteresting walking potted plant. While that’s setting up a complete either/ or fallacy, I can’t agree with either option. Have you no logic? The truth is, Maureen’s a very nice person. You probably are, too, but this novel isn’t about you, either. Sorry.

Lindsay, though—she’s somebody. Please don’t be offended. You’re somebody, too. So is Maureen. So am I. There are only so many words here, though, so we all have to take our turns. Lindsay’s going first. This doesn’t mean that she’s better than any of the rest of us, but at least she’s doing something.

As it turns out, as she burns out, Lindsay is scanning. Lindsay is making that confirming beeping noise to indicate that yes, this is an item, and yes, it is being purchased. Not only is it being purchased presently, but perhaps it’s being subtracted by the inventory and sorted onto a slowly evolving receipt. With full disclosure here being a must— at least at this point, we’ll say— it is true that Lindsay isn’t making that noise. It’s actually the whole contraption between the register and the laser scanner thinger that makes the noise. Even Lindsay doesn’t know exactly where the speaker is. Do you? The beep just pops into existence at exactly the right split second for the split pea and the not-spilt milk and their ilk, swiping their bars like cars on a giant slalom solving their disparately weighted proportions by sorting out north and south on the way to the house but first a bag— sort of a drag after all of that beeping, really—