My dream staycation

When I dream about having some time alone, the fantasy doesn't involve being marooned on a deserted island.

Instead, my family would head to the island and leave me marooned in my own home. My house would be spotless, not a toy in sight. Beds would be made, things would be tidy, and the hip decor I am striving for would be clearly visible without the random accessories my husband and children add to the mix.

I would sip my coffee uninterrupted while watching the sun rise over my equally spotless back yard. There would be no purple and red plastic big wheel to draw my eye away from the swaying palms. There would not be a single rock tossed into the pool. Later, I might sink into my linen couch, with its accent pillows still perched jauntily on each side just how I like them. I might nibble a bag of chips without having to share them while watching a marathon of girlie shows on Bravo or, better yet, an entire season of Weeds. I might place my drink on the coffee table without worrying about it getting knocked or tossed or swiped.

Later, I would shower, blow dry, and put on makeup, without having to choose two of the three. I would select an outfit without having to opt for the least wrinkled of the bunch. I would cook myself a really spicy fish dish with a curry coconut sauce and steamed vegetables. I would eat it without dodging a tossed green bean or getting up to refill a glass of milk. I might even light some candles.

That night, I would give myself a bath, read myself a book, and tuck myself into bed. Alone, in my deserted house, on my dream vacation.