Fried Eggs

I have a glass table in my kitchen - it’s hard, cold, and transparent. I refuse to eat on it without a table cloth; I don’t like people being able to see my legs or feet while I’m eating, it’s intrusive. The floor is marble, it’s hard and cold too. It’s cold all year round; in the winter it’s cold from the weather, and in the summer it’s cold from the air-conditioning. I wear socks in the house at all times. When I don’t wear socks, I wear slippers. If I can’t find my slippers, I find some socks. The countertop is dark brown marble with swirls of black and gold spots. It looks like a little mean army living inside staring at me while I cook. Dirty dishes are piled high in the sink, sitting in dirty water. I don’t really mind to wash the dishes, I know someone has to at some point, but it’s the dirty water that I hate. The oily water stains my hands and chunks of old food get stuck underneath my nails. I hate that. The cupboards are brown and thick holding stacks of glasses and plates and bowls. They are organized in a very specific way. Everything fits perfectly into one another. No plates are allowed in the stacks of bowls. Bowls aren’t allowed in the stacks of plates. Everything has its own place. Forks, knives, and spoons, lay inside their own little section inside the top drawer near the dishwasher. Spoons aren’t allowed in the forks section, knives aren’t allowed in the spoon section, and forks aren’t allowed in the knives section. Everything in its right place. The fridge is filled with containers filled with leftovers. It’s always filled with containers filled with leftovers that end up in the garbage anyhow. We fill the containers with leftovers so we don’t feel bad for being wasteful. The containers end up in the piles of dirty, oily dishes that will stain my hands eventually. The dishwasher is silver, and the door only stays down if the bottom rack is pulled out. The dinner plates belong in the left hand row horizontally, the small bread plates line up vertically on the right hand side in front of the horizontal rows of soup bowls. If organize things that way, you can fit more. When you fit more, you don’t have to run the machine as often. The glasses on the middle rack have their own spot, tall glasses on the right, short glasses and mugs on the left. There is a top rack that can be pulled down overtop the shorter ones for espresso cups. The utensils work the same way on the flat top rack, everything should be placed next to its own kind so they can fit into one another and maximize the space.

Bill,

The weather here is great. I swam with dolphins and met a couple from Guatemala. They’re on their honeymoon and won’t quit it with the smooching. Nice people, but I’m about this close to puking over it.

Let me get to the point, Bill. I’ve been giving us some serious thought and after riding Rudy’s back –one of the dolphins—I realized that we’re probably not right for each other. Truth is, Bill, the dolphin trainer, Jose, told me that my aura’s weak. He told me that it’s begging for some freedom, some clarity. Said that when he watched me ride Rudy’s back he could see my soul. I won’t lie to you, Bill, ‘cause you deserve better than that, but I let Jose take me for dinner the other night. I resisted a number of times Bill, believe me, I did, but he insisted he’d help me find myself. I need to know who I am Bill, you yourself know how lost I’ve been feeling. This trip is making me more alive than I’ve ever felt in my whole life. What I’m saying is, you don’t want me to feel dead inside, do you Bill? In time I know you’ll find someone who’s already found themselves. For the love of God, Bill, please try to understand.
I hope this postcard finds you well. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be back.

Sincere Regards,

Janice.