Susan has been fantasizing about reorganizing her recipes. She's been thinking about which ones she'd copy from her cookbooks, slip into plastic sleeves then place into a central binder. She was daydreaming about all the squash recipes she's saved but never tried. She wishes she were lucky enough to have a big beautiful refrigerator like Cousin Lisa where nothing ever ends up as a sticky black puddle. She knows that everything in her life would improve if only she could repaint the benches in her dining room.
Other times Susan fantasizes about smashing everything in her house, but that's only when her son walks into her line of vision.
Susan seeks refuge in her bed more and more lately.
She doesn't mind having company, as long as her companion has not been previously banished from her sight. Sometimes she takes the laptop or a section from last Sunday's paper or a glass of wine. She finds herself thinking about when she's an old lady and wonders where she'll end up, will little sister be with her and how early they'll be able to have a cocktail.