I wish I had someone to open the house each morning.
Do you know what I mean? Open the blinds, pull back the curtains, make the coffee, a little light dusting...All the things parlormaids in previous centuries were known paid to do.
I wish I had someone like that.
Maybe I'll write historical mysteries so I can pretend. That's what's grand about writing fiction, isn't it? The things we get to imagine. The romances. The cities. The wealth or the poverty. The heroism. The terror. The life.