You're a millionaire. Yes, you. The lottery fairy fluttered past everybody else and sprinkled you with magic dust and millions of dollars.
You've bought the mansion. Eight bedrooms, a pool, a gym, a movie theatre and everything else you'd expect in your luxury pad. A sports car, a four-wheel drive, a limo, a hummer and several other vehicles are parked in your multi-car garage (complete with chauffeurs). They're next to the yacht (complete with crew). Staff everywhere, pandering to your every whim.
But what is that whim? What's the quirky little luxury that will remind you every time you see/hear/touch/smell/taste it, that you are really so rich that you can have everything you ever dreamed of?
For me would be clean sheets every day. Twice a day if I take a nap. Crisp, clean, fresh-smelling sheets. The best feeling in the world.
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By the way, the answer is not 'world peace' or 'feeding the homeless'. We'll assume you've already done that (before you bought the hummer). The answer we're looking for here involves shameless personal indulgence.
A beautiful home that gives me a sense of peace. I've been living in rinky-dink apartments for too long.
Of course, for any home containing me to possess beauty and peace, a patient and persistent housecleaner would also be required.
Someone to style my hair every morning. I'm totally vain about it. *sigh*
Nice post, McK.
non-caloric beer.
A full-time gardener and maid. Oh yeah.
A 1958 Gibson ES-335 dot-neck, mint with tags That's a guitar, by the way. I want that because, although I could buy a reissue built with exactly the same materials and craftmanship, I love the idea of it being fifty years old, and having waited all its life for me to play it.
I even know the first notes I'll play when I get it.
On a slightly less self-indulgent note (but really more self-indulgent, if you think about it):
My mum is a breast cancer survivor, almost a decade now. She beat it, but was diagnosed two and a half years ago with an aggressive recurrence. Thank God, it has remained dormant since then under medication, and she's still relatively happy and healthy. Since first beating cancer, my mum, who never ever thought of herself first, has been travelling, seeing the world. She's been to Paris, Prague, Barcelona (twice), Amsterdam, Berlin, Nice - all the things she couldn't afford to do as a young woman.
The one place she still wants to visit is America, specifically New England in the Fall, and New York. But now she feels she isn't fit to make that journey, and has resigned herself to never seeing Manhattan or Maine.
If I should happen to have a windfall of sufficient size, this is top of my list: I want to take my mum, first class all the way, on a trip through Maine down to New York, staying at the best hotels and eating in the finest restaurants. I want to show her New Jersey from the Empire State Building while she's still able to stand unaided and take in the view. God knows, she deserves it.
My own personal chef. Now that would indicate that I had made it. Oh and the cleaning and the laundry and all that too.
Ladies, ladies. Of course you can have all the staff you want. And more.
But what would you like them to do for you? Aerin's got the idea, as does SS@S, although I think no-cal beer needs to be invented before she can drink it, and Conduit with his guitar lust - and who I will forgive for becoming more altruistic, because my mother is also a breast cancer survivor - over twenty years now, Conduit, and counting.
Wow, conduit. Thar's really sweet. If you it does work out, that you bring your mom to the States, please let me know. We're near DC.
I hope she does well beating this thing.
OK- here it is. Here it really is.
I'd like to write several hours a day, in peace.
I'd like never to cook, clean, garden, or any other time suck, ever again.
Robin, I'm surprised nobody nominated that already!
Yes, what Robin said. But I'd be reclining on a chair with somebody (hunky) giving me a shoulder massage. I'd be dictating my words to an ever faithful and hunky dude who is typing them for me.
My own library.
Oh and tons of time to read the books in a nice cushy, overstuffed chair. (And if my eyesight were better and I could read easily without glasses - that would be the icing on the cake)
You rock, conduit! I hope you get your mom time in the states!
Chris: only two hunks?! That's not very hussyish of you.
Sarah: laser eye surgery at the best clinic in town for you!
I'd buy a boat. Not a yacht or anything, just a fishing boat and go fishing every day. I know that's not what you mean, but I'm a simple man.
Interesting how a lot of our luxury items are fairly simple things or mostly involve having time for what we like to do. Something to ponder.
I work a 9/80 week and get every other Friday off. I've been thinking about taking off the other Fridays even if I don't get paid for them. I have almost no time for my writing and it's been killing me. So time really is more important than money but I need money to buy me some time.
A whole set of really really expensive fountain pens and ink. You know, the kind of things that Neil Gaiman links to in his blog. BUT, and this is important, they would be scattered all over the house. Used to write phone messages with and all sorts. Not a single ball-point, anywhere.
That'd be mine :)
Sarah's nailed it - I think it's the simple things we would choose to indulge in that would make all the difference to our lives.
Blogless doesn't want the yacht, he wants a fishing boat. Sylvia wants really good pens. I want fresh sheets. Aerin wants her hair to look good. Conduit wants a guitar.
And, all of us, even the ones that didn't say it, would like more time to write...
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