If I were rich, the first thing I would do is buy one of those robes that makes me look like a marshmallow. It would be like having a big pillow wrapped around me at all times. Well, at all times that I would be at home. Because I would wear it at all times. Also, it would be bright blinding white and never get a shade muddier.
The second thing I would do is buy plane tickets home for Christmas for the rest of my life. You should never, ever, ever, EVER not be home for Christmas. And if you ever have to be, don't let Christmas come. Make it wait a year and then make it a double Christmas the next time December bumbles through. But that's a moot point - because I'm rich and I just bought plane tickets home for every year from now until Jesus comes back.
The third thing I would do if I were rich is find the most uppity, luxurious, VIP's-only spa in town. Then I would book so many appointments that it would take me an entire day to get through them all. I'd have a mud bath (what do those do again? Not that I care. It's a mud bath.) Then I'd get cucumbers put on my eyes and have green stuff lovingly and smoothly applied all over my face, and I'd have a big white pillow-robe on, and puffy white fleece slippers on, and some music twinkling in the background with song titles like "Seascapes" and "Irish Flute Trio." Then I'd get an exfoliation, and then I'd take a bath in a tub full of rose petals. Then I'd have a mimosa brought to me in a big champagne glass with an orange peel dangling off the edge. And everyone would talk in really quiet whispers. And there would be a waterfall bubbling somewhere close by. Then I'd have a massage with stones and whatever else would make my muscles groan in protest and then with a deep sigh, give in.
The fourth thing I would do if I were rich, after recovering from my spa day, is start putting pegs in my world map. The first peg would go in Jerusalem. Then Thailand, and then probably London. After London I'd just play it by ear. If I happened to be craving cheese, for example, I'd go to Paris. And I am always craving Cheese.
The fifth thing I would do if I were rich is buy a pair of shoes for every day of the week. This is of utmost importance. I would need black, shiny black, black with some quirky detail (Wednesdays are for the quirky details), brown, brown with a hint of red, gray suede, and yellow wedges, because I'm that kind of girl.
The sixth thing I would do if I were rich is fill my schedule every day with things rich people do. I would go to Yoga with other rich women that never wait long enough between hair appointments to have their dirty blond roots show through. Oh, and I would never wait long enough between hair appointments to have my dirty blond roots show through. And I'd leaf through magazines on park benches with dangly hoop earrings in and always smelling like Spring and a freshly-showered, sugary expensive person. And I'd meet people for lunch on verandas, but I'll just have the salad thank you. And I'd run after the taxi in my heels to make sure I wasn't late for my pilates class. And I'd have a glass of wine and a bath every evening. Except after spa day. I'd had enough of baths that day. And I'd constantly be clicking away on my smart phone. That clicking, by the way, is from my freshly manicured nails.
The seventh thing I would do if I were rich is buy feather and down pillows. Six, at least.
The eighth thing I would do if I were rich is I would buy this painting and put it above my fireplace, which of course is on a brick wall.
And every night I would look at it and I would hear Carly Simon swooning
"In a pine forest cooler
than the rest of the island
lives a young fisherman
with eyes like the sea..."
And the ninth thing I would do if I were rich is I would buy Bob Evans, plant a franchise in Scottsdale and place a standing order for an apple pie, extra apply, to be sent to my front door each evening.
Here's the thing though. I'm not rich. I probably won't ever be. But even if one day I am, I probably wouldn't do all those things. Or I would, but they would take me about a week and then I'd shuffle back inside my house with my tail between my legs, because I could feel my brain start to atrophy and my heart start to get bored already. I hope if I were rich, I would give most of it away. C.S. Lewis says there ought to be things we'd like to do but can't, because of how much we give away. Looks like there's no spa day in my near future.
I'm still going to buy a blindingly bleached pillow-robe the first second I can.
Happy dreaming. Just don't forget how silly it is.