Cheryl and I joke all the time that we are going to run away from home and form a commune. Free of men, free of kids, free of anything. We just want to sit in a circle, sing kumbaya and braid each others hair.
Well, maybe we won’t braid each others hair…that’s just weird.
There aren’t many rules for the commune. You MUST shave your armpit hair. You MUST bring wine. You MUST like music. You MUST NOT play Angry Birds (sorry, Cheryl, I just threw that one in).
I think that is as far as we got on the rules.
We just want a place that we can sit around without children screaming “MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY.” A place where chocolate is plentiful and we can practice decorating sugar cookies without interruption. A place where it doesn’t matter our size or our page rank. A place to laugh and cry and watch Glee without interruption.
I imagine we would live in the duplex that we have always dreamed about. We would need a bunch of them so our friends could come visit and stay if they needed. You would just be in charge of bringing your own food.
I wonder how much it would be for shipping furniture? I guess that would depend on where we landed. I hear Colorado is nice. Or maybe Montana? OH, maybe Italy? Do they have communes in Italy?
For now, I have to go make dinner. *sigh*