My perfect day would be cold and rainy, and I'd wake up late to the sound of wet wind howling outside. Coffee would already be made, and I would put on sweat pants and drink my coffee curled up in my comfy chair, reading magazines and watching reruns of Family Ties. No one would call me, no one would come to the door. I wouldn't blow-dry my hair or put on any makeup...I wouldn't even put on shoes. When I got hungry I'd make fried eggs and toast, and there'd be ice cream in the freezer. I'd spend the whole day reading - reading one of those books that I can't put down. Eventually, it'd get dark outside, and I'd be able to hear the traffic on the streets below, but I'd be cozy and comfortable, and I wouldn't have to worry about my commute at all. I'd open a bottle of red wine and order pizza, and when I was tired, I wouldn't even wash my face or brush my teeth. I'd just curl back up in bed and fall asleep with my book by my side.
My perfect day would be warm and clear, and I'd wake up early and get right up, without hitting snooze once. I'd blow dry my hair straight and wear red lipstick and heels, and my husband and I would have brunch downtown with friends, and when we left the restaurant, some tourists would mistake us for movie stars. We'd walk through Nolita and shop and have coffee. I'd buy new earrings and then we'd shop for furniture and daydream about the loft we'll someday own. We'd see lots of people walking dogs, and I'd pet them all. We'd take cabs everywhere, and after an hour or so downtown, we'd go uptown and I'd try and find a new perfume. He and I would walk up Madison Avenue, and I'd feel glamorous and thin, and I wouldn't have allergies or pimples or split ends. We'd walk east on 82nd Street, and go to the Met. He'd hold my hand as we walked through the 20th Century art gallery, and I'd kiss him upstairs in the European Masters. We'd take the elevator to the rooftop garden and drink frozen margaritas as we looked over Central Park and squinted in the sun. We'd have dinner at a noisy bistro, drinking red wine and sharing dessert. When we got home there'd be no messages on the phone and no reason to go to bed early.
My perfect day would start like any other, and I'd be running errands as usual. I'd turn a corner and see an old friend across the street. What a surprise! we'd say. I know - it's such a small world! we'd say. We'd laugh and catch up and decide spontaneously to have lunch together, right then. We'd order appetizers and entrees and dessert, and we wouldn't look at our watches at all. We'd tell stories and remember how important friendship is, and when we hugged goodbye we'd each go home and write long emails to the people we love and we'd fall asleep feeling full and warm.
My perfect day would take place on a warm Mexican beach, and I'd spend the whole day smelling like sunscreen. My husband would sleep in but I'd get up and do yoga in front of the ocean, and then dive into the water instead of taking a shower. I wouldn't get sunburned, and we'd eat chips and salsa all day long, and I'd drink cold Dos Equis beer and nap in the shade. I'd wear my hair in braids and remember how my nose freckles in the sun. We'd take a boat ride in the bay and talk about coming back to the same beach someday with our kids. I'd get a massage and a pedicure, and at night, I'd look like Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone, when she and Michael Douglas spend the night together in the little village and she wears that outfit he bought for her. I'd wear a skirt to dinner and put a flower in my hair. We'd remind each other to bring the camera and take pictures, but we'd forget.
My perfect day would be the day I got that promotion I've been wanting - I'd be in my office, in my tall midtown office building, and I'd be wearing cool chunky glasses, and I'd be wrapping up the latest deal when my boss would call me into his office. I'd be promoted to Vice President, and given the corner office and a big raise. You're going places, my boss would tell me as he shook my hand. I'd know exactly what he meant, and I'd be proud of myself, and I'd know all my hard work and long hours have been worth it. I'd be so thankful that I've always know just want I wanted to do, and it would feel so good to be on a path. It'd feel so good to have a plan. I'd spend my lunchtime browsing the internet for luxury cars and a new apartment. People in the halls at work would congratulate me, and my assistant would come to me for career advice. I'd have a briefcase and clients and business dinners, but that day, I'd go home and take off my stockings and work clothes and drink champagne while wearing my expensive cashmere robe.
My perfect day would be somewhere - anywhere - that my whole family was, all together. My husband and all my brothers' girlfriends would be there too, and we'd all have our own rooms, but when we woke up we'd all meander towards a big, warm kitchen at the same time. We'd read the paper and laugh and have breakfast, and my parents would tell funny stories and we'd all be relaxed and happy and grown-up. My husband would feel like part of the family, and we'd all be together, and it wouldn't be because it was Christmas or someone's wedding or a special occasion. We'd just all be together, and it would be normal and right.
Doesn't that sound nice?
