Dear Santa,

I have a short list this year — just four requests. I know you’re a busy man and even just my small list is asking for too much. But I haven’t asked for anything for years… and I really need you to come through for me. Please…?

First, I need a job. This isn’t something I’d call a ‘gift,’ but it has to happen. I’ve completely failed on my own. My layoff was kind of a long time ago and I need an income. The stress of this is floating over me like a giant black cloud. I’m sorry I can’t really get more specific about this wish. I’ve never loved a job. And I’m worried what another dreadful soul-sucking job will do to me. Why can’t I land a job writing or doing something I don’t hate? I know my job history doesn’t help with that, but I can write. I don’t need documented experience! I can do all kinds of cool shit! Apparently, getting paid for it requires magic. You have magic…

Second, speaking of magic, my anxiety level is getting out of hand. I don’t know if you can give me any sort of gift that would make this better (but I’m thinking wish number four may help…). Modern chemistry is great but it’s not enough. I need the ability to relax… a way to turn off the worry-center of my brain for just a few hours a day.

Third, I’d like some jeans that fit. Perfectly. I don’t just mean in my size – I can find that anywhere. I mean cut perfectly for my body so they are just right. Slightly longer length (why are they always too short or too long?), the right waist-to-hip ratio (you know women have curves… I am not a dude), beautiful soft darker denim (none of that bright-ass orange stitching on ugly weird shades of blue). And of course, they have to make my ass look fabulous. Make it happen!

Fourth, I want a toy. Not a video game or a Barbie or even an Easy-Bake Oven. No, Santa, my jolly, sweet man, what I need is a sex toy. I’m not sure precisely what kind… I haven’t done any research (yet). But what I am sure about is my hormones. They have gone mad. Everyone thinks men want sex constantly (and many do) and women push them away. Not in my house. No pushing away here. I’m like a fucking rabbit! I want a toy… for when he falls asleep on the sofa before we have not-screaming hot sex. (We have kids, you know. No screaming.) Or when even he, a man, is not in the mood… and I am. It happens… because lately (jeez, for months now…) I am always in the mood. A toy is not necessary, per se, but I like options. Pick out something nice and… effective…? I trust your judgement. Oh, but please put a special bow on it. I should not open this present in front of the children.

That’s all. Only four wishes. I’ve been good… -ish. Okay, I’ve been naughty. But only the best kind of naughty. And I promise I’ll leave you cookies. I know how you love them.

Thanks, Santa. You’re the best.

Love,
Sandra

~Writing 101: day 8