1. Employment.

2. Employment that removes me from my parents’ house.

3. Blackout curtains for my bedroom windows, as well as for my bedroom walls and floors and door and closet door. Also gauze to wrap around my sleeping body, and a note for those who wish to check on me that reads: “Do not wake unless you have found me employment that removes me from my parents’ house, as well as someone sexy I can bring around to parties and restaurants and public restrooms, who I’ll introduce as ‘This is someone sexy’”.

4. More plaid shirts.

5. A bonfire at a local Blockbuster to burn my plaid shirts.

6. Ruth Gordon’s wardrobe in Rosemary’s Baby.

7. Ruth Gordon.

8. All the mix CDs I’ve ever made for people I wanted to date.

9. A gathering of my friends from high school who I don’t speak to anymore at a banquet hall with an Italian name and family-style dishes. I’ll reintroduce myself, then say I have to take a phone call outside where I’ll get into a cab and go home to sleep.

10. The hairline I had in high school.

11. A lamented document of all the drunken Facebook messages I sent in high school and freshman year of college.

12. A lamented document of all the sober Facebook messages I sent in high school and freshman year of college where I apologized for sending drunk Facebook messages.

13. A linen closet used only for storing bottles and bottles of contact solution.

14. The home addresses of each person who has turned down my resume, so I can send them a holiday card that says, “Happy Holidays”.

15. Actually saying “Yes” to my middle school math tutor’s constant offering of tea, then asking her why her husband never left their garage.

16. The nun in charge of my grade school CCD’s labored wheezing over the loudspeaker.

17. Holding the door open while waiting an almost inappropriate amount of time for the person to actually reach the door.

18. Erotic footie pajamas.