What I say, what I mean…

What I say I want: Cheese.
What I really want: A cheese platter. And a glass of wine.

What I say I want: The laundry to be done.
What I really want: The laundry to be done by anybody but me. But correctly.

What I say I want: My bills paid off.
What I really want: My bills paid off, money in the bank, and to own that one house. Only with a bigger yard than that one house has.

What I say I want: A foot rub.
What I really want: A foot rub that also includes my back, shoulders, neck and maybe some of those hot rocks. And a glass of wine.

What I say I want: The cat box to be cleaned.
What I really want: The cat to never pee again. Ever. But still be healthy. Also the claws—could they be self-trimming? Thanks.

What I say I want: A break.
What I really want: A six-week tour of Europe with my hubby… and the kids to stay in a hotel down the block. Under someone else’s supervision. And on that someone else’s dime.

What I say I want: My kids to grow up healthy and happy.
What I really want: My kids to never get sick, never try drugs, never fall down, never feel pain in any way— like, EVER— and to meet good, upstanding, kind, law-abiding funny people and for each to fall in love hard, forever, with a person of aforementioned character who also happens to love him/her back the same, really good way.

What I say I want: Something to eat.
What I really want: The Sunday brunch buffet at the Ahwhanee Hotel (Yosemite Valley) with a group of my friends. On my dime. Because I have also just won the super-lotto PLUS.

...Oh, and a glass of wine.