I’d eat TCBY frozen yogurt with hot fudge sauce and peanut butter cup pieces whenever I felt like it.
A whole team of housekeepers would come in and clean my home from top to bottom once a month.
My private office would be soundproofed and climate-controlled.
My person (because anyone who has her druthers has a person) would grocery shop, clothes shop, office supply shop, file, and also clean the cat’s litter box.
Researchers would finally declare caffeinated coffee healthy in any quantity.
And my novels Dead Wrong, Wishing Caswell Dead, and mystery with no title would be published by 2014.
That’s if I had my druthers.
Druthers, as opposed to its earlier variant drathers, is traced back to 1876 in Dialect Notes:
“Bein’s I caint have my druthers an’ set still, I cal’late I’d better pearten up an’ go ‘long.”
I know — that was a frivolous list up there.
But if I truly had my druthers:
No one would ever hurt a child again.
Families would always take care of each other without squabbling.
Politicians would serve and represent with honesty and integrity.
And people would not threaten or kill each other over land or religion or political ideology.
The quote is not an option. We should never just go along…