“Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats.”
In a perfect world, weapons of mass destruction would be Tonka trucks in the sandbox and terrorism would be nothing more than ten-year-olds toilet papering your tree fort. In a perfect world, coral reefs wouldn’t be dying and glaciers wouldn’t be melting. In a perfect world, every child would have enough food, enough clean water, adequate health care, a quality education and parents who loved and protected unconditionally. In a perfect world, oil would be abundant and cheap and the global economy would be strong. And in a perfect world, cancer would be a distant memory and human rights violations would be just a chapter in the history books.
Unfortunately, I have neither the power, finances, influence nor the intelligence to solve the world’s problems–and apparently the world’s leaders don’t have the resources or abilities, either (or is it just a lack of desire?). Someday I hope to explore those topics in more depth, but right now it’s late on a Sunday night, I’m bone-tired and brain-weary, and my feeble mind is stuck on the minor frustrations, silly complaints and trivial inconveniences that clutter my pampered world. If I can’t create that perfect world (today), surely from the cozy comfort of my recliner I can at least envision an almost perfect world.
So, here goes. In an almost perfect world . . .
Underwear wouldn’t ride up. Ever.
High heels would come with built-in foot massagers.
People could smell, be offended by, and do something about their own body odor before going to the grocery store.
No group of people would use its religion as a weapon or as justification for bad behavior.
Stupidity would have its limits.
Bladders could be programmed for emptying only during regularly scheduled waking hours.
Curtis Stone would give free, private cooking lessons.
Everyone would recognize their own worth.
People who moved to the country to get away from the city wouldn’t try to change the country to be more like the city.
Every car hood would have built-in, low-frequency shock waves so that every cat that jumped on one would only do it once.
The Big Bang Theory reruns would broadcast seven nights a week instead of just five.
Everyone would listen to every word, correctly interpret the meaning behind every word and intuitively understand every word left unsaid.
Dried-up ink pens would always be automatically discarded as soon as their condition was discovered instead of thrown back into a drawer to frustrate another day.
Bosses would always be as smart as their employees.
“Wisdom” spots, laugh lines and muffin tops would be revered for their divine sexiness.
Men would be required to endure the annual equivalent of a mammogram.
Everyone else would realize the sheer beauty of correct grammar.
Every backyard would have a hammock and a tire swing and every adult would be required to spend a few minutes every day in each.
Tornadoes would only touch down in open fields.
Nothing Justin Bieber or the Kardashians said or did would be considered newsworthy.
All weekends would come equipped with a pitcher of margaritas, a good book and a beach.
No one would ever say “I don’t know” or “I don’t care” unless they really didn’t know or really, truly didn’t care.
People would be as understanding and forgiving and loyal as dogs.
Toothpaste wouldn’t glob in sinks, hard water wouldn’t deposit on shower doors, weeds wouldn’t grow in gardens and bird droppings wouldn’t land on vehicles.
Everyone could know and always feel the warmth of a grandma’s hug.
Every day would come equipped with an ample supply of bubble wrap.
I would still weigh what my driver’s license says I weigh.
Everyone would follow their own advice (especially me).
All department stores would offer free alcoholic beverages to dull the pain of swimsuit shopping.
Everything important or interesting would happen before 9 p.m.
Naps and thumb-twiddling would burn calories.
Every bad day would come with a reset button.
Metabolism could be fueled by jelly beans.
Customer service representatives on the other end of the line would be (first and foremost) human beings who also happened to speak slowly, clearly and intelligently.
I could sing like Nina Simone and dance like Shakira.
All grown-up hurts could be fixed with a kiss and a Snoopy Band-aid.
Every brilliant idea conceived beneath the shower head could still be remembered outside of the steamy confines.
Every day would start with a moment of quiet reflection amidst the honeysuckle and end with a roaring belly laugh among loved ones.
And in an almost perfect world, we all would worry less about making mistakes and more about grasping opportunities, less about looking silly and more about making magic, less about the clouds graying our skies and more about the sunshine on the other side.
Yeah, that pretty much covers it. Except . . .