On that perfect day, I’d wake up and find that it’s exactly 8am.
By then, the sun would have risen, just slightly over the hills. A beautiful sight from my little wood cabin based tastefully in a rural grassland. The air would be crisp and fresh, the birds would sing and be merry. For that one day, I’ll get up and I won’t feel tired at all.
I’ll pull my quilt from my legs and stuff my feet into soft bunny slippers. Still a tad blurry, I’d shuffle over to my bathroom to wash up, after which I’d start my day with some chocolate chip pancakes and a warm cup of earl grey tea. Myself settled, I’d go over to where he is to wake him. Indulge in a nice cuddle and a few kisses. While waiting for him to wash up, I’d set the table for him. Knives, forks and the morning’s paper. I’d set them down and in the mean time, start another knitting project.
Over his breakfast, we’d talk about anything under the sun. Politics, work, dreams and maybe ambitions. Sooner or later, I’d have to wash up and start the days work. Baking. I’d finally have an oven in my kitchen, as well as every baking tool there is. Standing mixers, dough cutters and adorable little cupcake holders. I’d be merry, practically dancing around the kitchen, taking in the wonderful smells of baking sugar and butter. I would even make some cinnamon rolls or a cake or two. Nothing too sweet in case he can’t take it.
Glancing over at him, I’d see him lounging on the couch watching some random episode of Masterchef Australia. If the contestants were doing a dessert challenge, he’s get excited and call me over. I’d probably try to resist the urge of going over, in case a cake starts burning. But even now, I know that I’d still abandon that glorious cylindrical snack just to spend time with him.
I imagine my work to be pretty relaxed. I’d finish everything by late afternoon and nest myself at our balcony. I’d make myself some tea and snuggle down with a good book. Preferably one that I haven’t read before. Not fond of anything wordy, he’d sit beside me, maybe even lean on me and play a game of Pokemon on his DS while I read. I’d play something mellow on a pair of portable speakers whilst he tries to distract me from my book. Playing the same game for half your life could get pretty boring. Distracted, I’d give up reading and we’d simply hold hands and watch the sunset.
Hungry but not a fan of the savory, I’d refuse to cook and force him to bring me out for dinner. Which he will, of course, comply because I’d have mastered my puppy-dog eyes by then and be using it on him mercilessly. He’d take me to somewhere decent, somewhere which requires me to at least put on ironed clothes and maybe a little make up.
During dinner, we’d probably chat about the people around us. Talk about the food, how we’d seen in on Masterchef before. Maybe even how the restaurant could cook it better. The manager would catch us talking bad and have us thrown out, swearing at us in french or something. We’d laugh it off, probably clutching each other in case our legs gave way under us and stagger towards the nearest coffee place for a warm chocolatey drink of some sort. We’d bitch a little more about the restaurant and poke fun at other cuisines before we decide to call it a night.
Taking a slow drive home, I’d fall sleep in the car and wake up in the middle of the night, already in my bed. Only this time, he’d beside me, snoring lightly. Probably not even changed out of what he wore to dinner. Not that I would really care much. I’d nuzzle onto him and fall back to sleep. That night, I wouldn’t have a nightmare, nor will I dream.
Because my dreams would have had already come true.
Yeah, that would be my idea of a perfect day.