Downton Altey

Like millions of Americans, I am besotted by the English period drama that is Downton Abbey. I came into it a bit late but technology, bless you!, enabled me to catch up on the life on the landed gentry in the early 20th Century. And I stand corrected on one thing.

I am an unabashed liberal with a soft spot for the working class. However, I realize I would be an unbelievably awesome Countess Crawley. I would excel at having servants bring me breakfast in bed, attend to my hair and make-up, hand deliver my correspondence and set out my wardrobe for weekly social engagements. I would lay my head on an 800-thread count pillow and sleep with an obnoxious smile on my mug every night. I would vacation in Scotland, Paris, America, throw fabulous dinner parties with other well-coiffed snobs, judge the annual spring floral show and during the holidays, ask my maid to coordinate a delivery of goods to the poor. Of course, time allowing, I would set up a foundation to assist those less fortunate, perhaps young women who desired training to land non-domestic jobs or get an occasional manicure. But mostly I would sip champagne, eat low-carb delicacies and be so fucking happy about being a well-heeled aristocrat.

And don't act like you wouldn't do the same, faithful readers. Have you seen the amount of laundry the maids had to do, BY HAND? And they never seemed to take vacations, have sex or read a good book. Forget it, dahlings. Being overly pampered and utterly useless is my new calling in life.