We stopped the writing prompts for NANOWRIMO, but I've missed it. So here is Sarah Selecky's prompt for the day: Write about peeling a potato for at least one page. I'm so happy Deb responded to the prompt as well.
Peeling a potato should be easy, but I liken myself to a character I once read in a teeny-bopper book. She came from the upper crust and was visiting her friend one night. Her friend was middle-class, which meant they peeled their own potatoes. Well, this character joined her friend at the sink to peel potatoes for dinner, and while the friend peeled away, this girl worked at peeling just one single potato. When she was done, the potato was no bigger than a marble, but, to the girl's credit, perfectly round. The mother of the friend, out of compassion, made mashed potatoes instead of boiled potatoes so the girl wouldn't be embarrassed.
I am not from the upper crust. So I have peeled many potatoes. However, I cannot seem to peel potatoes without cutting myself. My husband even bought me a special peeler that a lady at the Bosch store recommended as the best one. And, I still cut myself.
My husband always washes the potatoes first, before peeling. But if you're just going to peel off the dirty part, why are you washing the potatoes? Peel them, then rinse them off to get off any dirt or grime that happened to come in contact with the internal outside of the potato. It's so much easier.
Anyway, back to peeling. Why are the peelers so flimsy? I get that they need to curve around the cylindrical elements of the surface, but they don't. Instead they're running along billions of tiny tangents, carving out what doesn't suit them, leaving some parts of the potato as flat as the great plains, and other parts untouched, and still others tinged red because the potato mysteriously morphed into a finger, and the finger hasn't yet told the brain that it doesn't want to be skinned alive, chopped, and tossed into boiling water.
I hope that I am alone in my angst with peeling a potato. However, given that this is an actual prompt by someone who only knows I exist electronically, because her mailing list says I do, I gather I am not alone. To those of you who suffer from potato-peeler-finger-scabbedness, I am truly sorry. I know how you feel, but that doesn't make it any better.