In my next life

You know how there are times you see something unique and cool and that tiny voice in your head says, “Why didn’t I think of that?” Or you see some concerns with the way something works or doesn’t work, and you think you just might have a better way?

You don’t ever do anything about it because you’re busy—so you mutter, “in my next life.” I’m not necessarily talking reincarnation. It’s a phrase I use when I just don’t have the time to do something right at that moment. To me it means “when I get around to it.” Could be in the next week, in the next year or in my next life.

Every time I’m vacuuming dog hair from the floors, I contemplate designing a small floor fan you strategically place in the corners of the room. Flip a switch and they blow all the pet hair into the center of the room. Poof—one swoop and it’s all gone. Of course, I have never designed any such item. I could just run to the store and purchase a handful of small fans, but I haven’t done that either. Maybe in my next life.

I’m not sure how many women still wear nightgowns—seems like sweatpants may have taken over as one of the favorite things to wear to bed. But I had a dear friend who was very ill and confined to bed. I remember her saying how she hated that she always got tangled up in her nightgown. She wished nightgowns would move when you move. So, I promised her I would help design a nightgown that doesn’t strangle you in the middle of the night. Haven’t done that. Maybe in my next life.

Sometimes I stare at the clutter on my kitchen counters—and I wish there was a way to escalate the decluttering process. So, I thought about counter tops with stow-away compartments. You know the kind they put in some minivans so instead of pulling out the middle seats and trying to fit them along the garage wall, you just stow them away under the base of the car? To me, someone who drove a minivan from 1984 to 2021—minus a year or two in between—that was ingenious. So why not have them in your kitchen? Stuff is all over the place, but you don’t know where else to put it and company’s coming in a few minutes. Just lift the lids—and drop all the stuff in there. Voila! You now have picture-perfect counter tops.

And another thing that can use some improvement—the doors in your house. Wanting to keep the dogs out of certain rooms means we close a lot of doors. Wouldn’t it be nice if all the doors were swinging doors—the kind they have in restaurants that lead to the kitchen? How much easier it would be to get in and out of rooms when your hands are full. Whoa. Just dawned on me swinging doors means the dogs would then have access. Ok, so maybe not a good idea. One less task in my next life, I guess.

Speaking of making things easier—how about cereal boxes? Maybe I will invent a new kind of plastic bag for inside cereal boxes that can be opened more easily and resealed properly. And while I’m at it, I’ll redesign the box so the flap you slide into the slit actually stays there. Mine just pops out and the box is never really closed. Maybe that’s already in the works because I can’t believe I’m the only one who struggles with getting those bags open and getting those flaps to stay closed.

Sounds to me like in my next life I’m going to be an inventor or maybe a designer. And if that’s the case I just might start with the labels on shampoo and conditioner bottles. I would make sure the print is large enough for the over-50 crowd to read in the shower. That’s something for in my next life. In the meantime, a permanent marker has graced my bottles with a very large S and a very large C.

Lots to do in my next life. Makes me tired just thinking about it. So, for right now, I’m going to catch up on reading some books by Susan Mallery, Jill Shalvis, Mariah Stewart and Jodi Thomas, some wonderful and talented authors I’ve recently discovered.

My inventions will just have to wait. Not saying I’ll never get around to them—just not now. Maybe in my next life.

Take it one day at a time...

jodi marneris

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