Monday:
Why don’t you invent some kind of device to immediately remove the lint from black pants? Lint rollers exist, but I don’t think they always work very well. I roll them all over my pantaloons, but they still have lint. It’s exhausting to be fashionable and only wear black pants, reader. Maybe you can come up with a device that will shock the lint off or suck it up or something. I am losing my mind. It’s not even cat hair; I don’t know where it comes from. (UPDATE: I bought a hella sticky lint roller that works like magic!)
Tuesday:
Why don’t you follow the advice I have given at least three times in the past to abandon your life and become a Transylvanian hay farmer? I’m quite insistent on this. I feel that it is right for me and that it is something I simply have to do at some point in my life. I feel this urge to cultivate dried grass in Romania as much as I do to wander through the the Valley of the Kings or down Melrose at midnight. It’s nonsensical. Find your Transylvanian hay field, reader, it’s out there waiting for you.
Wednesday:
Why don’t you make a bucket list of day trips within a reasonable distance from home? I’ve always claimed that I know Paris better than the small town where I work, and that’s really not a joke. It’s absolutely true. It’s all because I didn’t own a car until December of last year. Iowa is not a place that you can explore by foot, but now that I have the means, I’m going to work on learning more about this state. I’ve already developed a list: Maharishi Vedic City, the monks in Dubuque, the King Tut exhibit in Davenport, the pyramid tombs in a northern Iowa cemetery, and the Tulip Festival in Pella. Maybe I will like Iowa more if I can wander around?
Thursday:
Why don’t you get rid of all of your outdated technology and enjoy something new. I did not realize how awful my old iPad was until I bought my new golden iPad Pro. It’s so fast and so wonderfully beautiful. And it doesn’t lag or refuse to type. I’m so in love, reader, even though the thing is massive. It’s even bigger than I thought — like so big that it looks like a joke. But, I can type so easily, and watching Murder, She Wrote on this thing is near to a religious experience. Shop, readers!
Friday:
Why don’t you build one of those tiny houses? I love large, gracious rooms, and I love large, beautiful gardens, but living in a large house with a park-sized yard has taught me that it is very difficult to maintain by yourself. So, I dream of a tiny house with marble counters and checkerboard tile floors and Egyptian cotton everything. I have plenty of land to put my tiny mansion on; I just need to do it. I’d like it out in the woods by the creek. It would be a nice place for a retreat. Maybe a couple rooms. Nothing huge. Get building, reader.
