I Deserve to go to Jail

I mean seriously, how bad could it be?

I follow a blog called finslippy.  The other day she posted a conversation she’d had with a friend, who has three children, all currently sick.  Her friend was so sleep deprived that she confessed she secretly fantasized she’d get into an accident and have to be hospitalized.  As of today, 79 moms said they too hoped for something similar.  Most hoped for a car accident.  A car accident. And I’m not talking a fender bender.  They don’t want to be “treated and released” they want stitches, IV drips, maybe a mild concussion.  They want an overnight.  Or several overnights.

The thing is, the whole hospital stay isn’t that great.  It’s too fast.  Case in point, my very brief stay after having the twins.  After 10 hours of labor I had one baby, then was treated to a second labor lasting another two hours to have the second baby.  The two hour gap between births prompted one nurse to tell me she thought there was a typo on my paperwork.  “No one has twins two hours apart,” she said.  Oh but I did.  And in exchange, they ushered me out 36 hours later even though one twin was under 5 pounds and looked, unclothed, like a baby squirrel.  Last year, I came off my bike so spectacularly that I broke my jaw, my arm, sandblasted my face and cut my knee open.  Result:  two surgeries and just two overnights.  That’s it!

So what I have to say to these ladies is that serious bodily injury isn’t what you’re after here.  What you want is jail time.  That’s right, you need to go to jail.  I have had this fantasy many times.  Perhaps a three months stint in in a low security white collar crime type of joint.  With an exercise yard and painting classes, and a librarian who comes around with books on a cart like in Shawshank Redemption.  I’d never have to cook.   Who cares how bad the food is, it can’t be any worse than my cooking.  I’d never have to do laundry because I’d wear the same outfit everyday.  The kids would visit me and we’d talk on one of those telephone thingys and press our palms to the glass dividing us.  “Mommy,” they’d ask earnestly, “when are you getting out of here?”  And I’d say “One day baby, but not very soon.”  Maybe I’d be up for parole in a month because you know it’s a totally easy prison.  Or I’d have an option of community service and I’d be like, “Oh no your honor.  I wouldn’t feel right.  I should do the time, it’s only fair.”  And he’d go, “But all you did was open the neighbor’s mail. ” But I’d insist.

So I’m trying to think of the right crime.  Something illegal but not that would really hurt anyone.  A victimless crime.  What I’m looking for is some suggestions.  And don’t say I don’t deserve to go to jail.  You don’t know what it’s like around here.