I want to live in a place where the air smells different.
There will be a coffee table somewhere in my home that resembles an oversized
cheese-wheel. I will host swanky dinner parties that become the perfect backdrop for insightful conversations about human rights, French wine, and Budhism. My two boys will play tic-tac-toe on a slate board with chalked lines. I will have a dog named after a Greek god and a cat named after an Egyptian goddess. I will go to work in the morning equiped with an artsy thermos full of Italian coffee, a bottle of diet coke for later, and my palm pilot fully charged. I'll pull my convertable into it's designated spot and exchange pleasantries with the doorman. I'll strut in through glass doors, owning the smart red stillettos I'm wearing to go with my Armani three-piece suit. The work day goes smoothly, and the clients are more than happy with the results. The clock lazily clicks over to 5:00pm and I pick up my Versachi atache case and head home. Dinner is served by my boys, trying their hand at the culinary arts for the night. Bruschetta, artichoke dip with pita, and mediterranean salad --delicious!
The boys and their father horse around while I read on the couch with my feet propped up on the sleeping dog's back. We all soak in the hot tub for a bit, then it's off to bed. Lying on my Temperpedic bed under a fluffy, luxurious comforter with my husband's arm wrapped around me, feeling his warmth, I am content, and drift off to sleep...
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