Thank you, Mrs. Muir

Last night Ben and I watched The Ghost and Mrs Muir, and I realized that I finally know how to live my life.

Step one:  Move to a haunted house.  This should be easy, because apparently they rent cheap.  Actually, I may not even have to move.  I already live in a cabin that is over 100 years old--maybe I just need to tap the right floorboard?

Step two:  Get the ghost to dictate his life story to me.  Preferably with lots and lots of antiquated cuss-words which I will object to typing, because I am such a Lady.

Step three:  Use my feminine wiles to get an appointment with a publisher, who will so love my book from the first page that he will read the whole thing in one sitting, ignoring all other considerations.  He will immediately agree to publish my book, and I will smile and say "Thank you very much."

Step four: Kick back and watch the money roll in.  Apparently one can make so much money with a single book that one will never have to work again or ever worry about money--ever.  Actually, one book can make you so rich that you can buy your haunted house, keep your maidservant employed until you croak and spend your time doing nothing but taking long walks on the beach followed by afternoon naps.

See?  Easy!  All I need is a man to tell me what to write and I'm all set.

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