I wouldn't whisk myself off to Paris or ask for a mansion or a Porsche.
Instead, I would wave my magic wand and--POOF--this would be the result:
- My house would sparkle. Glisten. The magic wand would have cleaned beyond human ability. All the cracks and the crevices and the four-year build up of ick that I can't even see--gone, and in their place--shine.
- The laundry would be folded. Not just once, but as soon as it came out of the dryer. The magic wand would create self-folding laundry.
- I would own another off-street parking spot. Fewer hit-and-run accidents would be perpetuated on the car that has to sit nightly on the street like so much forgotten recycling.
- There would be a few hundred more pounds of pea gravel in my back yard. I have a tiny back yard, and right now I have three huge (HUGE) dogs pooping in it a few times a day. Every time you pick up dog poop (sorry for the TMI) you pick up a handful of rocks. And then you eventually (four years later) need more rock. However, it isn't prudent for my husband or me to carry 80 pound bags of rocks up the 17 stairs it takes to get to my house in order to re-rock the back. (See 9 and 10, below.) So there's not enough rock, and the ground is beginning to appear below. This is Seattle, and the rain has started. Now I have 12 (HUGE) muddy paws and no energy to wipe them. Should I just pick up a day laborer at Home Depot to carry my rock? Put an ad in Craig's list? How do people manage these things?
- My credit card debt would disappear. And magically, in my savings account, would be that pile of money that Suze Orman now says that we all need stashed away: six month's salary. Then, when the car gets hit (for the third time in six weeks), or the dog gets sick, or I have to have surgery again, we won't have to put it on the credit card.
- My house would be well-constructed. Turns out in the housing boom not all the Ts were being crossed, nor the Is dotted. It also turns out that our condo developer had a less than adequate insurance policy, which means we were less than adequately compensated for the less than stellar construction. Which means we can't afford to fix all the problems.
- I would be able to refinance my home. Turns out too many of my neighbors have been foreclosed upon, and the lenders don't see our condos as worthy investments, which means that the Fed can lower interests rates until the free-range cows come home, but I can't lower my monthly payment.
- My depression would lift, and in its place, a happiness and contentment would settle in. With all the free time I have now that my house is clean and my laundry folds itself, I would make more art.
- My husband would be well. Free to climb mountains and practice martial arts and run the hounds around the neighborhood. [he has this. and the outlook is grim.]
- I would be well. Mentally (see number 7, above) but also physically. Too many physical issues to get into right now.
What would you wish for?