"For the Average, Servantless Woman"

My husband just had a good laugh at me because I just said (in a growly voice), “We need to hire some staff around here.” I’m having a Walter Mitty moment, dreaming away, and I’m taking another sip of wine.

Nothing wrong with dreaming right? Even if it is completely and utterly unrealistic.

I imagine a housekeeper cleaning away the pen ink scribbles on the couch, cracker crumbs on the floor, and mysterious dried food bits all around the kitchen area. Actually, I take that back. They are not “mysterious” dried food bits. It is macaroni and cheese bits. Hopefully, the housekeeper could also take care of our cat because even though a cat is one of the easiest pets to take care of, apparently, it is just too much of a task for this family. Days can go by before someone checks the cat food bowl in the laundry room and discover that the cat has had no food for God knows how long.

We also need a chef. Not only would this be handy because I’m too tired to cook dinner, but they could whip up stuff that is delicious and nutritious. This person would be in charge of making those dishes I hear about that keep you full and satisfied for longer with less calories. And, they would work their magic to make it still look and taste like yummy, trashy food. Let’s admit it please. Nothing is better than yummy, trashy, horrible-for-you food.

Then, as long as there is both a housekeeper and chef, then we might as well have some other people around. You know, a STAFF! A personal trainer might be a good idea, however, they would probably piss me off more than they would convince me to work out. Money would be better spent to hire someone to finish off the next door neighbor’s dog.

Notice that nowhere does it state I would like a nanny. Nah, not for me. That person would probably piss me off too. Besides, me and Parker, we’re like peas and carrots. I do think that if I were suddenly struck rich and able to quit my job, I would still have him attend daycare just a couple days a week because the scrappy experience of dealing with other kids is good for him (must guard against weird-only-child syndrome).

Alas, it is time to stop dreaming. (“Time to make the donuts.”) Time to make the hamburger helper, throw in a load of laundry, and continue to devise surly plans of death (without ever being discovered) for the neighbor’s dog. There is no money for hired assassins right now. There is no money for a house big enough for staff. There is no money for a staff. But thanks for humoring me. Some time in the clouds is fun.