in my perfect world

I could say “Table for 1, please,” and not get that “I’m sorry” look from the hostess

Apartment A would’ve been rented by a tall, single, Jesus-lovin white boy who likes Europe and orphans

I would have chance meetings with people I know when I’m not wearing gym clothes

People would laugh at my jokes and not laugh when I’m not joking

The guy wearing the awesome hat who just walked by would’ve looked down and noticed how charming I look sitting in the grass with my laptop, nalgene, and schoolbag

My fingernails would clip themselves

Old people would never make embarrassing comments in front of your friends

All the dishes would fit in the dish drainer

Roly Poly bugs would die if they came within a mile of my door

Black men wouldn’t stare at my backside

Water would be free

All my friends would live in the same state

I would get paid or at least appreciated for the things I really love, things I already do: writing, playing with kids, hanging out with internationals, singing Taylor Swift in public...

Ok, so the last one is partially already true. The rest I guess I can live without.