I'm certainly no stranger to this whole concept. Mitch and I already have someone telling us what to do with our money, and Dan the landscape guy brings his riding mower over every two weeks in summer to cut our grass, and the plow guy comes each time it snows. And since I can't clean my teeth properly despite them being inside my very own mouth, Stella does it for me every three months. (It's really more the gums that are the issue.)
I could cut my own hair except for the very back so I let a passing parade of stylists perform that task. There are manicurists and pedicurists who I don't use because of fear of staph infections, so while I tend my own nails, I discuss my fear of staph infections with my shrink every couple of weeks. I could find someone to scour my toilets but I actually find that fun--again fodder for my shrink. But washing the floors is a drag and while I haven't gotten anyone to do that, the floors around here are getting awfully grimy. And wouldn't it be great if I could get someone to write that book I started--oh yeah, I can, it's called a ghost writer, what a riot. And since there are dog walkers there must be cat petters since my old, arthritic cat Daisy needs pretty much constant attention to keep her from howling. They must charge a premium for overnights, which is when she really gets going.
Which reminds me: I definitely need someone to fall sleep for me at night and not think about the thousands of boys who have been sexually abused by Catholic priests and those hundreds of kidnapped Nigerian girls, and all the rest. My friend John who is a professional stress handler (www.WarOnStress.com) will start doing that for me soon; only time will tell if it works.
Anyway, if there any typos in this blame Spell Check; it's certainly not my fault. And if any of you out there want to take over writing this blog, let me know. That would really free up my mornings.
the lamp broke
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