One of Those Days
Just once before I die, I want to have one of those incredible days. You know the kind where everything goes your way. Almost like magic is in the air.
Ones you\’ve read about where people find a wallet and turn it in to the authorities. Voila! They\’re given a thousand dollar reward. Or, they answer the door to find Ed McMahon standing there with balloons, flowers, and a check the size of my waistline.
Your hair and makeup have never looked better, and those jeans that previously cut off all circulation, fit like a glove. Maybe your son uses your car… and he fills up the tank… and uses his own money! Somebody pinch me.
Is that asking too much? I\’m not hard to please, and right now, I\’d settle for even a little bit of magic, you know? Like mini-miracles? (But hey, if old Ed wants to drop in, it\’s soookay by me!)
But just once…
I want to wake up to the aroma of coffee my automatic coffee maker actually automatically made without me having to pray to the coffee gods for success.
I want to drink said coffee while reading hundreds of emails from adoring fans without those, “You\’ve won a month\’s supply of the amazing XYE crème guaranteed to increase your bust by three sizes.” Does that come with a wheelbarrow?
I want to pick up my dry cleaning and hear, “Ms. Richardson, guess what? Those nasty Tacky Taco stains are gone!” And not have Mr. Smarty Pressed Pants say, “Ever thought of wearing a bib?” Being a Queen, I refrain from saying, “And have YOU ever thought about why YOU are in business? You know, I stained clothes, you clean them?”
I want to walk outside to the mailbox and find that my mailman did NOT run into my mailbox again, and he left a check for the other six he, ah…rearranged…with a note…begging for forgiveness. Then, retrieving the mail from my newest mailbox there\’s a check from my mortgage company. I\’ve been selected as Homeowner of the Year and my mortgage is hereby paid in full. This one\’s a stretch, even for me.
I want the grocery boy to pay attention while sacking my bounty instead of flirting with the gal two registers over. Reliving Friday night\’s keg party where everyone got smashed and almost jumped off the roof, naked… gives me pause, “Did he wash his hands?” Just once, don\’t put the drain cleaner in with the ice cream, or smash the bread. Hold on, I\’m not done. He says, “Carry out your groceries ma\’am?” and doesn\’t make me feel guilty for accepting. Sigh… what a day. What a dream is more like it.
HONK! HONK! Well, gotta run, there\’s the mailma—Crash! Sigh…
