There are some dares that seem to speak to me in cooing, soothing, Siren-like voices and this is absolutely one of them. Dear Dare: Je t’aime. I imagine that most people would probably say no to this out of fear of developing an acute and possibly maddening case of cabin fever in just a day or two, but not I. Quite the opposite. I think I might actually thrive if I could just be left alone to Greta Garbo it up for a year, with all my food and drink and sundries delivered right to my doorstep as needed. There is so much I could accomplish! Without my g.d. day job taking up wasting precious time I could finally work my way down that list of movies I’ve been meaning to see for years; rediscover old favorite records and eliminate the nervous energy that makes it so hard to listen all the way through new ones; read the books that seem to accrue on my bookshelves at a rate faster than any human could possibly read them all. I would welcome visitors, who I would require to bring me novelty items (tiny cakes, Russian dolls, sparkly tropical fish in every color and so on and so on) from the outside world and to update me on all the technological advances I’d be missing (imagine how much more magical almost every new hi tech gadge-a-mabob would sound if you’d only heard tell of it. I say, like, 1000 percent more magical). I’d open my windows (thankfully, my apartment has plenty) on spring and summer days and wave to people passing by — especially the very little ones — and sometimes watch bad TV. And the rest of the time, I’d just sort of be, as corny as that sounds. Being a homebody isn’t exactly the same as being a hermit, and I think I could find pleasure in the former. Then, the year would be over, and I’d be a millionaire. And since you asked, yes, I would retain the delivery service, and yes, I would have them bring me several pairs of sunglasses and many tubes of sunscreen before venturing outside. I am totally into this.
