Probably being granted all-access to a Disney theme park with my husband, David, and a group of close friends—and just us—while we wandered and drank tropical tiki drinks. No judgment, no lines, no bad weather, and no hangovers. Oh, and our twins would be there too, but only when they’re happy and meltdown-free. I guess the same would go for David.

Good TV, good delivery, perfect AC. Literally doing nothing.

Pizza and wine after performing for a great Saturday-night crowd on Broadway.

Being healthy. Sometimes we don’t know that we’re not healthy because we’re not going to the doctor—like me, when I first discovered I had diabetes years ago.

Telling me the menu is only accessible through the QR code.

I am unable to use scissors.

Oh, man. Well, I hope when we die, it’s the same as before we were born. No one’s really frightened of that enormous, infinite blackness before we were born. No one sits there thinking, “Oh, God, how awful. I was nothing.” So I don’t really see why we should be frightened of that after we die, as long as it is black. I really don’t want to be up there on a cloud playing a harp, meeting some of the people I’ve hated in my life. I can’t imagine a greater nightmare. That would be hell, in fact.

The cat bowls. With the old cat food dried on like cement.