The Life I Don't Have

I live someplace warm.  Not California - they have earthquakes; not Florida - too humid; not Texas - I've never gotten over the Drew Pearson thing (not to mention the whole North Stars debacle); not Colorado - too much snow; not Utah - I find Mormons troubling.  I'm thinking maybe Nevada, Arizona or New Mexico... or perhaps an island in the Caribbean so I can have the ocean.

I have a nice little two bedroom townhouse with walls so thick I can't hear the neighbors.

I have a job I love.  I'm not exactly sure what that job would be, but it would be nice to get paid for doing something I loved.  (Do they pay people to eat ice cream?)

I wake up looking forward to the day.  (Not in an unrealistic, bound-out-of-bed singing show tunes sort of way, but at least not feeling encumbered by sadness, regret and nagging dread.)

I occasionally hang out with good friends.  (Kind of like Sex and the City, only the women are normal.)

My son comes home from college (which is paid for because he earned a full scholarship) on all the holidays and spends his summers with me until he graduates; at which time he finds a high-paying, secure job (with excellent medical and dental benefits, an ironclad pension, and free parking) doing something he enjoys.

My 11-year-old car lasts another 11 years.

I am inexplicably happy.

(Seriously, do they pay people to eat ice cream?)