I once catered a dinner party where a man who had casually known Yves Saint Laurent (right) said that I looked like he did in his youth. I don’t know if this is true, but I often think on it.

Monday:

Why don’t you write a letter to your senator, your representative, your governor, and your president to complain about the monstrosity that is Daylight Saving Time. I hate it. I loathe it! Getting dark at 4:30? Ain’t nobody got time for that. I wouldn’t mind so much if I were in a gorgeous city with something to do like the Camden district of London. But instead, all I have is endless fields. I’m sad.

Tuesday:

Why don’t you pick up a few British expressions? I’m currently crazy for the term “chuffed.” It means something like pleased or proud. I refuse to refer to my underwear as pants, though, as they do in Great Britain, because that’s absolutely ridiculous.

Wednesday:

Why don’t you get a new tattoo? If you haven’t had one, they’re quite fun to have on your body someplace. I’ve only got one at the moment, on my forearm. Obvious, but subtle, I think. I’m considering a new one. Not sure what I want, yet, but I guess what the people on the Internet said were right about tattoos being addictive. I want a sleeve. I want two sleeves.

Thursday:

Why don’t you choose a classic novel and do a bit of research to discover what the best selling book was at its release? This will introduce you to a piece of literature you surely know nothing about, but will also teach you a lesson on the folly of success. Those successful novels have, for the most part, been long forgotten.

Friday:

Why don’t you start planning your next trip? It’s extraordinarily important to go out and see the world, whether that be a half hour’s drive away or a half day’s flight from where you are. I haven’t been on a big trip in three months and I’m itching to get someplace. I’m dying to visit New Orleans — perhaps over winter break, probably spring break, though. #sadsies