Often times when I think of my life fifteen years from now, I think of Jennifer Lopez in the Wedding Planner pre Matthew McConaughey. Coming home after a long day of making people happy to a perfectly well lit apartment - exactly how I left it. Everything in its place. I can't seem to shake the picture of her grabbing a step ladder so she could dust off all the places that no one will ever see, like the refridgerator or the tops of the windows, and then settling down to a nice tv dinner.

I could probably have my life exactly how it should be. But I don't want that. I want to be able to come home after a hard day and be pissed off because someone has been drawing on the walls again and the dishes still aren't done and I'm wishing that I was Jennifer Lopez in that opening scene and didn't have to worry about any of this. But I would worry. I would worry because a doctor who can't seem to comb his hair saved my shoe and I from getting flattened by a dumpster, and he's the reason I can only eat the brown m&m's even though his theory about them being the only ones that aren't artificially colored is completely incorrect. I would worry because even though I might want out at times, that's what I signed up for when I let the tops of the windowsills collect dust and ditched my lean cuisine for chicken nuggets.

But all of that seems so distant and foggy. The images come in segments like a dream, and I can't see faces, just the backs of people's heads and then I realize that the whole thing is just my imagination. I need to stop thinking about it and convince myself and everyone else that that's not what I want at all, in order to save face on the day that I'm 31 and wearing earth-tone blazers with all of my outfits. 

And I laugh and ask people why they would want to share their bed with someone for the rest of their life because every Harry Potter fan knows that the way to conquer your fears is to turn them into something funny. But sometimes I worry that even a Patronus charm might not fix me.