Wednesday, July 15, 2015
It happens when we buy a juicer. Amy points it out to me and I’m horrified. I’ve begun to name things after Hector. Multiple things.
“What should we call it?” I ask, standing back and admiring the juicer’s regal stature on our countertop. “You’re the one who anthropomorphizes,” Amy says, “I don’t care about naming appliances. In fact, I’d rather nap. See you in a bit.” She goes to her room.
When Amy wakes up and emerges, tank top askew, she says, “So, what’s the verdict?” “HECTOR!” raise my arms up, like I’ve won the lottery. “But the toaster’s named Hector,” she is unimpressed. “Are you obsessed with Hector?” “I don’t even know a Hector!” “Um…” She takes out her cellphone.