Bucket List

Bucket list when I was 6

I want the tooth fairy to give me 2 new teeth really quick!

When I was 8

I want to become an airhostess and see the world. (Now that I’ve got my 2 front teeth).

At 11

Air-hostesses are fluffy. I want to become a pilot and see the world.

At 15

I want to marry Shahrukh Khan.

At 17

I want to marry the guy next door.

At 21

I don’t ever want to marry. I want to work hard and become rich and famous.

At 22

I’m sick of working. I want to marry someone rich and famous.

At 23

I want to save the world and all its animals and people and trees.

At 24

I want to learn to dance the flamenco, and learn the guitar, and learn Spanish, and work on a film script, and travel the world, and work all day and party all night.

At 25

I don’t want a single one of the above. I want to get a house of my own, with wonderful kids and a dog, and sit at a window and look at the sky and write a book, and write a column and write a blog .... and read and read... and write and write.

At Now.

Got there. Living my bucket list right now. Don’t seem to have anything more I want to do. I’m boring!!!! Help!

But guessing from the way my life is, I’m sure I’ll have one tomorrow, and a new one a year later. Maybe write that film script? Maybe work in a small town in France or Papua New Guinea? Maybe go look after polar bears or koala bears or tigers in the Sunderbans?  

I guess what I’m trying to say is that my bucket list in a work in progress. The bucket seems to have a hole at the bottom and the handle’s too rusty to carry around for long. It also seems to change shape. Sometimes it’s the size of the plane I wanted to learn to fly. Right now, it’s so tiny it’s non-existent. I’d like to see my 2 li’l boys grow up  to start working and stand on their own 2 feet. That’s about it. Before that, I refuse to kick the bucket. Or even think of one. (The one that’s overflowing in the bathroom, draining out the water tank, while I sit and write this blog).