When I was a little girl, I wanted to be an old lady with bright red hair (dyed, of course) and live in a giant old house in San Francisco, with a swimming pool in the basement and a garden on the roof. I would be a wise person. Everyone would come to me for advice. I would have lots of bookshelves everywhere full of books. Maybe I would be a writer- maybe not. Maybe I would be the kind of person of whom people write about.
Everyone would be fascinated by me, of course. They would come to me for advice, especially the young people. I would have a masseuse and a gardener on staff. I would basically not have to lift a finger. Sometimes I might take lavish vacations to Europe, and my entourage of artists and musicians and gardeners would follow me, unable to cope without my presence for more than a week.
I would get really, really, old, until legends would abound about me. "What was she like when she was young?" people would ask each other, "Can you imagine?"
And it would be my secret that when I was young I was really, really boring.