At this point, I will wish for tickets to Hamilton (I assume it will still be a smash sell-out hit for years to come). Actually, though I shouldn’t admit it, I’m not a fan of rap so really have no desire to see Hamilton, but everybody who is anybody has seen it; and since at that point, I will also be somebody (the Pulitzer, remember?) I won’t really have a choice.
I was thinking of wishing for a visit from the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol; but I suppose I won’t need it since I will have Genie to grant my every desire. I don’t want to be greedy, after all, so I’ll ask Genie to send the PCH people to your house instead. (Please send me your address.)
It dawns on me that with my new-found good fortune I will become an even more enticing target for con artists than I am now, so I will wish for anti-scam protection and enough smarts to figure out that the person texting me questions supposedly to confirm my eligibility for a huge government grant is not my cousin Christine, as claimed, but an imposter trying to steal my identity.
I will also wish for a way to zap all those annoying robocallers with an electrical charge — not strong enough to kill them but painful enough to induce them to remove my name from their calling lists once and for all!
I was thinking about wishing for stronger will power so I could stick to a diet and finally lose those ten pounds I’ve been trying to shed for several decades, but it would be more fun to have a killer metabolism that would enable me to eat all the lasagna and ice cream I want without gaining an ounce — or another alarming jump in my cholesterol reading.
And you know what would also be great — a live-in tech support guy to be available around the clock to fix all my electronic glitches instantaneously — no more trying to reach one on the phone and waiting on hold interminably. In fact, I’ll ask Genie to eliminate all my “hold” time on all calls so I will never again have to listen to that irritating music (or, worse, recorded sales pitches).
Oh, and I’ll have to wish for a larger home since that aforementioned live-in techie is going to need a room. I’m not sharing mine even if he’s a Clooney clone. Actually, especially if he’s a Clooney clone. No way do I want him to see me with bed hair and without my under-eye concealer.
Silly me! I forgot that I’m also going to wish for flawless, wrinkle-free skin and fabulous locks that look gorgeous whether disheveled or straight from the salon. Yes, I know I could achieve those attributes by asking Genie to make me young again; but I think once was enough. I really don’t want to relive the inevitable heartaches and disappointments that accompany the joys of youth. I have a feeling even Genie would be powerless to eliminate them.
Finally, since I’m opting to remain old, I was thinking of wishing for the ability to get up from the floor without any help when I fall; but on second thought, that would seriously impact my limited social life. (When those hunky firemen respond to my 911 summons, I call it date night.)
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