Let’s list the things I want and can’t have, because that’s fun and healthy:

• longer legs
• thousands of dollars in disposable income per month for clothes
• a bi-monthly trip to Europe (Paris, Prague, Munich, London, Barcelona, and Rome – on rotation)
• internal organs that regenerate every night so I can indulge my vices scot-free
• feet that can handle four-inch heels without pain
• a mint green Vespa (I can’t have this because I would absolutely get pasted onto the side of a bus)
• be best friends with Stephen Fry, P.G. Wodehouse, Dorothy Parker, Fred Astaire, George Plimpton, and David Rakoff, and have them over for dinner weekly
• lots of glamor and very little responsibility
• a metabolism like a bullet train so I can finally have a fettucine alfredo-centric diet
• fluency in the theories of particle physics and epistemology
• a microwave that doesn’t sound like a Zamboni when it heats up my turkey meatballs (I could have this if I didn’t have a fundamental belief that home appliances should cost about $10)
• a castle
• be guest conductor of the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra
• be able to play the shawm (my neighbors would kill me)
• basically be the most interesting woman in the world.  With really long legs and undead friends and absolutely incredible clothes.

I can’t have any of that.  But I can listen to this song and daydream about it.  That’s something.