Sara tells us that when she was a kid, she had to stand in front of her class and tell them what she wanted to do when she grew up. She wanted to be like her father, who was a cop. Everyone assumed that this was what she meant, but it wasn't. She's back on the job after a year on maternity leave, and she's having a hard time finding the time to talk to anyone. She says she'd force anyone to look at her pictures if she had pockets. Sara says that she'll have to work around her schedule, her husband's, and getting a sitter to take care of her. She wants to be alone, she says. She doesn't need a man, she thinks, because she can beat the boys with a stick. She wonders why she hasn't gotten a new copy of The New York Times yet, and wonders if it's because she needs a man to complete her. It's like she was never given a choice, she wonders. She can't be alone in her apartment, waiting for someone to come pick her up and take her to the theater, and then she can have the smug jerk from the "American idol" on the other side of the room to keep her company while she eats alone. Sara wonders if she has any choice at all, and says she probably never did.