I would live in the cottage from The Holiday
…with Carter and Jordan and Champ, but only after I’d graduated from Hogwarts.
I’d have a lifetime of free passes to all theaters, stadiums, and museums. Somewhere in my quaint cottage (maybe the secret basement) I’d have a library that would rival Belle’s in Beauty and the Beast.
My hair would bel all mermaid-y like Amanda Seyfried in Mamma Mia.
Instead of the community pool in my neighborhood, there would be a huge vegetable garden where I’d go pick dinner every night. I’d carry my chosen goods back to my house in a straw bag.
I’d be on time for everything. My Prius would always be clean, inside and out, and it would still have that new car smell. I would of course still teach English (in a temperature-controlled, germ-free classroom where there’s a computer for every student, the wireless is lightening-fast and always works, staples never have to be removed, and I have a built-in 11:30am nap).
That classroom would be in a barn. Yeah. A barn. Decorated with lace curtains and fluffy throw rugs. And when we were learning about Transcendentalism, or the Romantics, or whenever the mood hit us, we’d take a nature walk in the forest right outside our barn and have intellectual conversation, picking wildberries and freestyle rapping as we went.
In a perfect life, I’d be able to do everything without leaving Carter alone for a moment. I know how to be in two places at once because one of my best friends is Hermione (we met in school) and she lets me borrow her time-turner. So in between writing novels and knitting and being a full-time college student (just for fun), I also make all of my family’s food and clothing from scratch. We hike the mountains by our cottage every day and take long bike rides. All of the grout and baseboards and windowsills in my house would be spic and span, and I did yours yesterday.
There’d be constant dinner parties for friends and families, with an infinitely large round table, and we’d all go to bed feeling sore from all the laughing. I’d remember every day to tell them how much they each meant to me, and why.
And (here it comes), in my perfect life, my husband would still have impossibly long black eyelashes. We’d still sneak into our baby’s room while he’s sleeping, just to smell his sweet milky breath and tuck his toes back into his blanket and see who can kiss his cheeks without stirring him.
I got this cute idea from my childhood best friend, Katie. You should do it, too! (And then link in my comments, so that I can live your fantasy.)