The Juliet Club

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In the distance, a church bell rang, and Kate’s happiness was complete.

What I want for Christmas.

(So, of course, all of the following enumerated items are wished for only AFTER everyone I know is granted consistent good health and quick deaths at very advanced ages.)

  • At least one toilet in the house that works every single time.
  • The weird sense of euphoria that comes from listening to specific Kings of Leon songs while driving on the highway.
  • A weekend at home free of children. Children, I adore you, but I don’t enjoy conversations about Nyan Cat and (his? her?) its rainbowed bottom. And sometimes I want to watch TV and drink wine in the middle of the day without feeling guilty. Off you go. When you return, I will smother you with kisses and cookies.
  • An early-morning wakeup without the exhaustion that usually accompanies early-morning wakeups.
  • The sense of coming home after a long journey without actually having to make the long journey.
  • Sundays. Deliciously empty Sundays. Except if we have a play, concert, movie, or party to attend.
  • A shampoo bottle that never goes empty.
  • Books. Do I even need to add this?
  • At least one window in the house that is always sunny.
  • The feeling and smell of clean sheets every night without having to actually clean the sheets and make the bed.
  • The sound of other people’s children making fusses in restaurants. I love that sound. It’s a reminder that my own children are large and capable and really lovely to have dinner with.
  • Just more of everything, forever. Love to all.

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