This week has been a mess. Not life-altering, not tragic - but the kind of week that just beats you down. The kind of week where work and home mash together in an endless pool of obligations that you barely tread water to avoid drowning in. The kind of week where you notice the basket of unpaid bills (because you're too tired to sit down and pay them) and the unsent photo Christmas cards (unless I'm planning an ironic "Christmas in July" theme, that's $70 down the drain)and you just sigh. The kind of week where you learn your kids need superhero costumes for Field day (why?) and they're supposed to be created by the kids themselves and when your son asks you to Google Wolf Spider Mask, guess what comes up in the search results?
A ball gag.
That kind of week.
And it got me to thinking: wouldn't life be simpler if you could switch out your reality for a TV show? Even just for a week. I don't know that any one show in particular would solve all my problems, but maybe a combo -- Downton Abbey meets The Vampire Diairies. Like, I would much rather be sitting having tea with the Dowager than filling out a spreadsheet. I mean, who wouldnt? Scones, amazing (itchy) clothing and oolong-laced gossip ... yes please!
And I bet I could find the makings of a "Wolf Spider Mask - Spider Vill" super hero costume in the wardrobe dept of VD. Yes, that is the actual costume one of my sons is designing, and his drawing is fabulous ... but I fear the motherly execution is going to be disappointingly less so. My sewing skills are rudimentary and I banned myself from glue guns after an unfortunate incident in the "make your own advent ornament" fair a few years ago. Surely one of those hybrid dopplegangeryly folks would have something I could borrow instead. Or if they didn't, probably they could be "compelled" to go make one. Or hunt one. I'm not picky, I just need a damn costume. (Side note: suddenly realizing why son suggested we look for his water bottle at "the damn house." Another reason to channel TV. Less cursing on PBS. More so on the CW, but I haven't heard the "f" word yet. The same cannot be said of a certain six-year-old).
Also? The food. Instead of eating lunch at my desk, I could dine at a formal table with cocktails and servants. Multiple courses and ruby-colored wine in a crystal glass. Sure, you always hear English food's not so hot, but it can't be worse than corporate cafeteria fare.
Or I could take my meal in front of a raging fire with gloomy vampires as dining companions. Sounds downright cozy. Granted, they never seem to eat much, which is probably why they're all skinny and cute. (Or that could be the whole diet of blood thing they've got going on). Whatever. So they're more of a drink-your-lunch crowd -- that's OK, it's Friday, and as I mentioned, it's been a long week.
A liquid lunch would be just fine.