Today I was Novalee Nation, seventeen, seven months pregnant, thirty-seven pounds overweight-- and superstitious about sevens.
I walked into Wal-Mart, knowing that it was impossible not to think of Novalee. I snickered at myself and smoothed my hands over my midriff... I am nowhere near pregnant (in fact, dismally far from it), but I affected a slight waddle when I was sure nobody was looking. I bought a cheap pair of sandals (with orange straps and straw bases-- $1.98) and a Snickers bar.
It wouldn't be so bad to live in a Wal-Mart, really. You have almost everything you'd ever need at your fingertips. Although when I think about it, living at Target would probably be better. Target has a grocery department, and a bakery and a deli. And a Pizza Hut.
(I don't know if your Target does. But my Target does.)
As I washed my hands in the bathroom, I gazed around and made my decision. If I am ever seventeen, seven months pregnant, thirty-seven pounds overweight-- and superstitious about sevens-- I am going to live at Target.