My friend and I were talking about what we would do if an unexpected 20 grand landed in our bank account. The rules of this game are that you cannot keep it or invest it; you have to buy something or spend it on a service.
I’m a woman of simple pleasures. I don’t need a private island. I don’t need a Lamborghini. Not that you can get one for 20k, but you know. I don’t even need one of those fridges that talks to you (though I wouldn’t say no unless it started judging the number of times in a day I opened it).
All I want is a few modest upgrades to make everyday life a bit more manageable; the kind of things that would reduce my stress levels by 40% and my swearing by at least 12% (still a significant figure). They’re all entirely doable, maybe, but unfortunately, they all cost money and unless I start selling kidneys on Etsy, I’m unlikely to have a spare £20K lying around.
But here, for your enjoyment (and maybe a crowdfunding page?), are nine things that would make my life infinitely easier.
1. A cleaner who isn’t me
Someone who doesn’t just tidy around the mess, but picks things up to clean underneath them. Someone who moves sofas and knows what lurks behind them. Someone who knows what all those weird hoover attachments do and can fight the never ending battle against dog hair on my behalf.
Someone who can tackle my tween’s fetid hellhole of a bedroom without bursting into tears.
2. Space in my kitchen for a tumble drier
I’d like to actually be able to dry clothes when it rains, but it would require reconfiguring the whole kitchen and who has the money for that kind of thing, just so they don’t have to drape clothes over radiators or simply wait for a hot day?
3. A talented personal chef
He’d make meals I didn’t have to think about. He’d use fresh vegetables and season with fresh herbs. He’d never serve up cold fish fingers. My personal chef – let’s call him Nigel – would greet me each evening with a hot plate and zero judgment. Nigel wouldn’t cry if someone said they didn’t like sausages, because everyone would like his sausages.
Nigel is patient. Nigel is priceless. Nigel is also, unfortunately, fictional.
4. A decent night’s sleep, delivered regularly
Eight hours. No interruptions. No perimenopausal sweats or hours of existential angst. No ‘MUM I HAD A WEIRD DREAM’ at 3am. Just me, my duvet, and the peaceful knowledge that nobody needs me until morning.
OK so, you can’t buy sleep, but you can buy hotel rooms, blackout blinds, noise machines, and mild sedation. I’ll take all four.
5. Someone to water my pot plants
When I say I love gardening, what I actually means is I love spending all my money on plants and plant pots. My front garden is so pretty but holy hell is it boring to water the whole thing; similarly my alarmingly big collection of indoor plants are fantastic but watering them in rotation could be a full time job.
Someone to pop in, make everything pretty, and leave again without judging me would be brilliant. They could even wipe my monstera leaves down for me.
6. A car with working air con and a less dodgy radiator
I had been saving up for a new car when I accidentally paid my entire month’s wages and some into my mortgage account. I’ve taken it as a sign and decided that for the time being, I’ll stick with the car that is covered in crumbs, smells a bit weird and overheats when you get stuck in traffic. Maybe next year.
7. Therapy, but make it casual and on-demand
I don’t want a full hour every week. I just want to press a button and vent about how many times I’ve had to say ‘we need to leave the house in 5 minutes’ before we actually leave the house. Ideally, this service would also hand me snacks and say, ‘it’s all fine! You’re doing great’. I mean yes, I fortunately have friends who fulfil this function, but paying someone would make it all legit.
8. An actual holiday where I don’t have to organise anything
Not a ‘mum on tour’ holiday where I’m still planning, packing, cooking and refereeing; a proper holiday. The kind with sun loungers, silence, someone handing me cold, alcoholic drinks that didn’t come from my own fridge and NOBODY complaining that they’re bored. Bliss.
9. A life admin assistant
Someone to deal with the dentist bookings, the school uniform orders, the endless forms, the school meetings, the lost passwords, the payments, the emails I never replied to. A few hours a week should do it. I just want to be a one of those mysterious people who turns up where she’s told and has her shit in order by magic rather than the person who doesn’t turn up because she forgot to open the email and put it in her calendar.
Could I survive without these things? Technically, yes. I already am. But would I thrive with them? You bet your bloody life I would. But unless anyone has £20K down the back of their sofa, I’ll be here, sans Nigel.
If you enjoyed this and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a cup of tea or a glass of wine – or donate to my houseplant addiction fund – here.
You can also see my Amazon wish list here.