goldilocks

goldilocks broke into a cottage belonging to three bears. she ate their food, sat in their chairs, rifled through their unmentionables and slept in their beds. why couldn't she just get a nice job in town serving porridge to the townfolk, eek out a few dimes and sit in her own chair? sleep in her own bed?

maybe she was curious. maybe she wanted to know what a house of bears looked like, what they ate, how they slept. she was a picky breaker and enterer too -- she didn't accept anything that wasn't 'just right'.

first, she samples the bears' porridge -- gratuitously left on the table. she dips a finger in the first bowl. too hot. she scoots to the next bowl -- slightly smaller than the first -- and dips the same finger for a taste of mama bear's porridge. TOO cold. it's the little mickey mouse plastic bowl of porridge that finally lights her fire...just right. why stop at illegal entry when there's food to be stolen from a baby? conscience and guilt are distant spectres in her story -- the only thing that matters is her mission to find "just right".

instead of guessing that baby bear's meager possessions are typically 'just right' based on the porridge, she insists on trying each item from the top down. papa bear's chair is too wide, too hard, too tall -- smells like whiskey. mama bear's is too soft, too narrow, too short -- beset with knitting needles. baby bear's is -- surprise -- just right.

is it curiosity that compels her to try the "toos" each time rather than recognizing a simple pattern? does she fret, at all, that while she's trying on papa bear's smoking jacket and donning mama bear's shower cap, that they'll come home and think she's just right for dessert?

she doesn't. not until they do show up and she books it -- having already discovered how she likes her porridge, her reading chair, and her sleeping arrangements.

in choosing what is 'just right' i work in extremes. if i were goldilocks, i would try papa's first, then baby's, then i'd assume mama's was just right. i'd assume that whatever sat in the middle would be the average of papa's concrete bed and baby's satin crib. one extreme is usually a catalyst for the other, the impulse flipper, the frictionless pivot. i'd assume that if papa's is too hot, baby's must be too cold...but not so. goldilocks is methodical, consistent, and puts her theory to the test to discover her 'just right'.

goldilocks isn't concerned with finding what's 'right', sort-of-ok, or good enough. she is undeterred by the possibility of jail time, or the threat of a grisly death via pissed off bears. she is so hell-bent on finding 'just right' that she breaks into a house of bears and loiters there long enough to find out.

for when she was good she was very, very good. but when she was bad, she was perfectly horrid.