When I’m feeling particularly nihilistic, I get the urge to smoke Virginia Slims, drink 7 & 7’s, tan til I’m crispy, and call up QVC to talk to Joy Mangano. I wanna sell Herbalife and go to Laughlin with the girls in matching tees I got off Etsy. Go on cruises to the Caribbean and take FOMO worthy pics for the gram. Try the Lambrusco at Olive Garden. Take up golf. Bite every chocolate in the Whitman’s Sampler until I get the filling I want. Eat the cashews out of the mixed nuts. Park my Lexus in the Handicapped spot in front of Dillard’s. Sing Pat Benatar at the top of my lungs as I drive down the highway. Get a Jack Russell Terrier.

Come home to the man in my life, sit in matching recliner seats, and hold hands as the warm glow of nuclear detonations surround us. The lead we’ve consumed will have encased our organs. We’ll live forever.