He'll love old houses

He'll be a safe and courteous driver He wont mind cooking every once in a while Hell rub my feet and ask me about my day Hell go to the North Pole with me before its too late Hey! You just spilled your bloody fuckin coffee all over my bloody fuckin spot!

Oh, God, Im so sorry! Josie scrambled to her feet and used the corner of her blanket to sop up the spill before it reached the skinheads camouflage sleeping bag. She smiled sheepishly. Since shed detected a British accent, she added, Cheers, mate.

Josie plopped back down. She decided the list was as complete as it could be, so she hit the save key and placed her order with the universe.

It was done. The sun came up.

Suddenly, she felt a prick of discomfort and looked toward the skinhead again. He wagged a pierced eyebrow in her direction. She gave him the benefit of the doubtmaybe this guy had courteous driver written all over his face but she just couldnt see it because of all the other tattoos.

She silently amended her list. /Dear Universe, Id really appreciate it if my man were tattoo-free. Thank you./ The lights of Celestial Pet flickered on at precisely seven-thirty.

Employees scurried about, taping down helium balloons, turning on cash registers, adjusting elaborate product displays. Through the glass, Josie could see the sign for the grooming salon, just off to the right.

Victory was in sight.

At eight oclock sharp, a smiling woman in a deep blue vest came to the front and ceremoniously used a set of keys to open the doors. Josie had already packed up the coffee-stained blanket, the laptop, folding chair, iPod, chew toys, and empty thermos. However, as the doors opened, it dawned on her that shed neglected to look in a mirror. She hadnt freshened her lip gloss or run a brush through her curls. Surely she looked like a woman whod pulled an all-nighter on a sidewalk.