....in a perfect world:
no worman seventy-five years old would still be having hot-flashes. In fact, no woman would have hot flashes at all. Really, and with respect, My Lord, whatever are they good for?
no one would be allowed to sell items in packaging that requires either tools or superhuman strength to open. All I wanted this morning was a cup of coffee. The room I was in contained 1. instructions in the form of six steps of indecipherable pictures printed on the coffe maker itself, but underneath the lid so that I saw them only after I'd finally decided I could probably figure it out without directions and 2. a packet of coffee inside a wrapper I'd defy anyone to open without a pair of scissors--and which an exhaustive search of the room failed to uncover. If cigarette packages were equally hard to open, the number of cigarette smokers would decide measurably. (Surgeon-General take note.
and, last thought for the day, one's energy wouldn't give out on a daily basis before she got to the end of her "to do" list.

Hey, I can't be the only one who sees ways this world is occasionally in need of improvement. Feel free to add your own suggestion any time.

I"m learning it's not always easy to design a perfect world. For instance, tonight as we were sitting in a booth at our favorite little restaurant the couple behind us were having an intriguing conversation concerning the warmth (according to her) or lack of warmth(according to him) with which he had greeted a young waitress who was leaving the restaurant as they were entering it. Unfortunately, a good deal of their conversation was almost inaudible, even if I kept my head turned sideways as if I were studying the blackboard listing dessert choices on the opposite wall. And, of course, the one time their voices began to rise a bit, Karl picked that minute to ask me how I could be interested in a dessert menu that hadn't changed in six months especially since we never order dessert anyway.
On the other hand, I could hear every word of the debate two men a few booths away were having concerning the relative merits of flying or driving from CIncinnati to Chicago, paying due attention to the complexities of the weather in both cities at various times of year, possible hours of departure and arrival, precise destination inside or near Chicago, total amount of necessary luggage etc.
So how do I arrange things in my perfect world in order to avoid this kind of frustration? Maybe I'm not quite ready to be in charge of world--could that possibly be? (And do I hear a sigh of relief from those who know me?)
One easy improvement, though--in a perfect world dogs couldn't stand cat food. You could fill the cat dishes in the morning, and they would remain on the kitchen floor undisturbed all day until that mysterious moment, unique to each cat, when he or she suddenly realizes that they are ravenous. Think of it--no snatching up the half-empty bowl the cat has just walked away from and the schnauzzer is diving for. No loud, reproachful laments from the cat as you hurry to fill his dish before he expires at your feet from malnutrition.
So there, I do have some good ideas.

Chasing a Scnauzzer on my Rollator

....the hours in my day would expand to accommodate all the things I wanted/needed to do in that day, even unexpected emergencies like chasing a miniature schnauzzer whose speed rivals Superman's. It's 1:30, I've been up since 6:00 (Slept late) and I haven't done any writing yet.

Rainy Sunday

.....it wouldn't be raining on a Sunday afternoon when I am already downcast by a rejection the mailman brought yesterday. The rejected story has a plucky hero with a habit of enhancing reality in the tales he tells. It has pirates, ghosts and a missing treasure. It's aimed at middle schoolers who are good readers but not mature enough to handle the content of YA's,and I believe boys in grades 3,4,5, and 6 would find it exciting and enjoyable. That was the assessment of the rejecting editor, too. However--and when I read letters from editors I'm always dreading those "However's"--however, it's a tricky length, too short to be a true novel, too long for a short story. (Not that anyone is printing short stories these days). In short, it's a hard sell, not something the editor could pitch as a potential block-buster. Just a literate, traditional story for boys. The kind teachers tell me are hard to find. So in my perfect world, an editor could accept a story she liked without worrying about its "marketability."

.....and one more thing, in my perfect world, Dickens (cat number 5) wouldn't walk over my keyboard when he gets up from his nap behind my laptop. Of course, if he had an apt phrase or two to add to this...