Okay. I don’t think I can execute such a high-stakes heist by myself. But I can complete a dry run in which I take copious notes, detailing each difficult and deliberate step. Clearly, said notes will be a surefire way to impress the Sarahs. Not only will it speak to my criminal mind, but it will also address my level of commitment. And emphasize my potential. The plan is so fabulous that my skin intermittently goose pimples as I wash my face and brush my teeth. For this idea to be a complete success, I need the dry run to be as realistic as possible. I’ve got to move forward as if I’m literally prepared to hold up a bank. This includes arming myself. We are not a gun-equipped household, so my options are limited. My dad keeps a baseball bat near the front door. But I need a weapon that can fit in my pocket. I dig through my sock drawer. I find a golf ball. A pack of gum. A very old wristwatch. Lots of nickels. Socks. A thermometer. A pocketknife! Perfect. I knew it was in there somewhere.
