600 Hours of Edward

happier shopper. Before, I sometimes had to wait behind several people in line, and that threatened to affect the projects I had at home and, conceivably, although it never happened, could have caused me to miss the 10:00 p.m. start of my
Dragnet
episode. I’m no longer permitted to go to the Albertsons on Sixth Street W. and Central Avenue, which is actually closer to the house that my father bought for me.
    It was a dumb situation: I was in the checkout line behind an old woman, and she and the checker were talking a lot, and the line was moving slowly. I asked if they could quit talking so I could leave faster, and the checker shot me a mean glance and then kept talking. So then I said, “Please, hurry up because I haveto leave soon.” The man behind me didn’t like this and pushed me, and I ran into the old lady and knocked her down.
    The store manager called the police, and my father had to come to the store and tell the police that he would make sure it never happened again, even though I told them that it was not my fault and that I wouldn’t have run into the woman if I had not been pushed. Nobody believed me.
    You can probably guess that the whole thing ended up involving a letter from my father’s lawyer, who ordered me not to go back to that Albertsons ever again.
    But now that the Albertsons on Grand Avenue and Thirteenth Street W. has self-checkout stands, I think it’s a moot point. I don’t have to talk to anyone to pay for my groceries now.
    – • –
    After I get home and unload and put away the groceries, I notice that the mailman has already been to the house. Ideally, I would like to add to my data sheets the time that the mail is delivered each day, but my projects and appointments sometimes take me away from the house, and so I don’t always see the mailman when he comes by. I might be able to rig up a video camera that would record his visit even when I’m not home, but Dr. Buckley says that is the sort of impulse that I need to work on controlling.
    I don’t receive much mail. My bills go directly to my father, and he pays them. My name is not on this house or on my car, and so even junk mail is scarce. That’s how the junk mail people find out who you are and where you live. They go snooping around in public records, like home and car titles, and then they write to you. Also, if you apply for credit cards, you are sure to get all sorts of junk mail. The only credit card I have is for my expenses, andthe bill goes to my father. If this card has resulted in junk mail, I can only assume that my father is receiving it. I don’t like to assume. I prefer facts.
    Today, there is one letter in the mailbox. It is from my father, in an envelope from his office. I am relieved that I am not hearing from my father’s lawyer, but hearing from my father isn’t necessarily better. I will have to open the letter to find out.
    Edward:
    I have received your credit card bill from last month. Everything looks to be in order, but I am confused by one charge: $49.95 for eHarmony.
    Call me so we can address this.
    Ted Stanton
    I had a suspicion that this was going to happen. Now it is a fact.
    I go inside the house, pick up the phone, and dial the number at my father’s office.
    “Yellowstone County Commissioners.”
    “It’s Edward Stanton. Let me talk to my father.”
    “One moment, please.”
    I listen to the orchestral version of a pop song—Muzak, it is called. Paul McCartney’s “My Love.”
    “Ted Stanton.”
    “Father.”
    “Edward, thank you for calling. How are you?”
    “I am fine, Father.”
    “Can you tell me about this forty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents?”
    “I signed up for eHarmony.”
    “What is that?”
    “It’s an online dating service.”
    “You’re dating?”
    “I am looking at online personal advertisements.”
    “Does Dr. Buckley know about this?”
    “My treatment with Dr. Buckley is between me and Dr. Buckley.”
    “Online dating, eh?”
    “Yes.”
    My father’s voice softens. “Well. This could be interesting, Edward. This could be something good for you.”
    “You’re going to pay the bill?”
    “Sure. Yes. Why not?”
    “It’s the only one you will get. I canceled the membership.”
    “Oh.”
    “Good-bye, Father.”
    – • –
    I guess I should tell you about eHarmony. I spend a lot of time on the computer looking at websites on the Internet. I used to keep track of how many hours and minutes I spent on the Internet, but I don’t