Fairy Godhelper


Recently, one of the mega-lotteries hit 400 million dollars, which triggers all kinds of discussions down at the local coffee shop about what you’d do with that much money. Around here people tend to vote for long trips to warm places and forgetting to come home, but we all know most of us would buy a new pickup, a couple head of good rope horses, then waste the rest ranching.

Not me. I know exactly what I’d buy if I had all the money in the world. I’d rush right out and get myself a fairy godhelper. One who’ll follow directly in my footsteps and tackle all those annoying little details I’ve never quite been able to get a handle on.

For example, she would be in charge of watching where I put my keys. My gloves. My reading glasses. My wallet. That one black t-shirt I can never find when it’s the only thing that will work under this jacket. My entire summer wardrobe from two years ago.

She would be in charge of remembering to pick up the mail more than once a week, and confiscating and paying all bills before they got tossed onto a corner of the desk and immediately covered by debris, thereby reducing the number of times a year we have to wire transfer money to our auto insurance company so our coverage doesn’t lapse.

She would keep track of all of my passwords to all of those damn websites that require you to register and have a specific formula for what they’ll allow so I can’t just use the same one everywhere. And so I wouldn’t have to start from ground zero every time a situation arises that requires me to use PayPal.

She would go next door and have coffee with my mother every morning and listen to the role call of who died this week or was diagnosed with cancer, diabetes and gout and how they are related to us by either blood or marriage and you know they’re Susan So-and-So’s daughter and didn’t you both compete in high school rodeos at the same time or wait, maybe she was your sister’s age.

In fact, my fairy godhelper would have a photographic memory for names and faces and I’d wear one of those concealed Secret Service microphones in my ear so I would never again walk into the local cafe and stare blankly at a person who has just greeted me as if we have shared deep and meaningful life experiences. She would also know which of these parents milling around after school are there to pick up which child, and why I should recognize them after four years of my son being in the same class as theirs.

My fairy godhelper would be an ace at things like operating system updates and adding email signatures and formatting newsletters, and why the hell won’t my new computer give me permission to look at the pictures I transferred from my old computer?

She would handle anything that involved the wrapping, addressing and mailing of packages so that, as my husband likes to say, it doesn’t look like it was sent by a hillbilly. I say duct tape is never the wrong answer, the more the better. But my fairy godhelper would always have the proper type of packing tape on hand.

Of course she must be a registered massage therapist and a licensed professional counselor to soothe my aching muscles and my tangled writer’s psyche. And last but certainly not least, she would be invisible and have the ability to poof! in and out as needed, because who in the world wants some woman looming over their shoulder all the live long day, watching their every move?


TLRH quote 5

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