Employment is cramping my style

Sunday was so relaxing and stress-free, that I caught myself wishing that I was somehow independently wealthy, or maybe just a kept woman, either would suit me. I was wishing that somehow I didn't have to get up this morning and head out to work.

Instead, I'd stay home, snuggled deep in my Downy-fresh covers, the smell of freshly ground coffee wafting through the air. Eventually I'd venture down the stairs, pour myself a cup, and sit at the kitchen table sipping it as I perused the newspaper I found laying before me. As I drank my coffee, someone would be upstairs making my bed, tucking in the hospital corners and putting a big chocolate cookie on my pillow.

Afterward I'd start a leisurely shower, taking time to shave, properly condition and moisturize. I'd emerge fresh and ready for the day. My towel would no sooner hit the floor than it was carried away to be washed and folded. (Notice that in this dream, all of my household chores are taken care of for me, as to not hinder my television viewing, knitting or other means of wasting time.) I wouldn't have to stress over what to wear. My closet was full of things selected by Clinton and Stacey (What Not To Wear).

Then I'd take some time to ponder: should I knit, should I read, should I flip through the channels. Maybe Cynical and I would enjoy a late lunch (as it would be nearing 11 a.m. by then, it takes a while to moisturize properly), a lunch which I'd prepare because in this dreamland, not only do I have the time, but the skills as well.

We'd gab as I stirred, mixed sprinkled and folded until I presented the most delectable of feasts served ever so appropriately on a specific piece of Fiestaware chosen for the occasion. Maybe we'd play all of my "Like Omigod It's the 80s" CDs and giggle. Maybe we'd take our lunch outside and sit on the ground picnic style until the mosquitos carried us and our food away. (Not even a dream can exterminate the mosquito infestation in our yard.)

Soon after fighting off the mosquitos and Cynical* would settle in for a nap, I'd settle in for some knitting and it would go swimmingly as in my free time I had become an expert knitter, easily tackling any pattern I selected. Maybe I'd doze a bit, knitting in hand, dreaming of pretty yarns and shiny needles. (*Did you think I'd make Cynical work in this dream world?)

After I dozed, I may just take a walk. I might just walk to get some ice cream or maybe a Snickers, whichever came in my path first. (You see, this is a dream, and in dreams, well, calories don't matter and I am thin, able to eat anything that struck my fancy. I am also able to say things like "struck my fancy" without people laughing at me.)

The walk would up my energy level and I'd come home ready to meet my personal trainer. You see, even though this is a dreamland, a girl still needs some aerobic activity. I'd expertly complete each task he put before me, all the while he would be applauding and saying things like, "Not even Madonna is able to keep up with you. You are a marvel, a true marvel."

I'd eventually shoo my trainer away, tired of the compliments. I wouldn't need to shower, in this scenario I don't sweat.

Our evening would be filled with yet another expertly prepared meal. We'd dine, drink wine and laugh, retiring to the living room where we'd play Trivial Pursuit and answer all the questions correctly, commenting on how boring the game had gotten.

And then it would soon be time for bed. Crisp, cat hair free sheets awaited. And then we'd do it all over again.

Above is a shot of pumpkins from my escapade over the weekend. Below is a photograph in celebration of Socktoberfest, all of those (sans Phin's pair), that I have knitted thus far.