The absolute best thing to do when one is cold, alone, and without the comforts of Nutella to aid one’s diet is to warm up a nice spot of tea and watching hot British people in the 1920s be assholes to each other.
Luckily for one (me), a series that has already aired in Britain has just made its way over to America: Downton Abbey . I love watching shows about class relations, history, and pretty hats, so I’ve been hitting the PBS website pretty hard, trying to find out when a new episode is up. I have also been dreaming about living at the estate.
Although there’s no way I’m a secret duchess or even a baroness, I can always dream about outsourcing some things in my life to make it easier, right?
A Footman for starting the car before I go to work since it’s COLD, COLD, COLD, and most importantly, foot massages after a long run. A Porter for carrying my laptop to and from work. A Butler for telling me what kind of wine I can bring to parties without people knowing that it cost $10.99. And, of course, a scullery maid to do the endless stacks of dishes. From Wikipedia: “The scullery maid also assisted in cleaning vegetables.” Excellent. I can have her peel my oranges.
Doesn’t it suck that, nowadays, you have to be your own footman, butler, porter, scullerymaid, housemaid, housekeeper, and valet? No wonder we never have enough hours in the day: we are doing the jobs of at least seven people at once.
Oh well. I guess it’s a tradeoff for not having to wear corsets, riding sidesaddle, and marrying your cousin, each of which is more uncomfortable than the next.