I wish I had a key to someplace secret.  Someplace that only I know about, like a little cottage in the woods.  Someplace terribly romantic.  No one would ever worry about me or wonder where I had gone or what I had done, but I could just disappear there when I wanted to be alone to think.  It would be the ideal place for me, I would have a little garden that I could take care of, but nothing in it would ever die so I wouldn't get frustrated with it.  I'd have an apple tree behind my cottage, and a willow somewhere on the grounds.  The inside would be all comfortably cramped, tons of fluffy feather pillows and hand-knitted blankets on the mixed up furniture in the tiny sitting room.  The kitchen would always have food in it, food that I could cook easily, but the kitchen table would have mismatched legs, making it wobble, and none of the chairs would match.  There would be a loft where I could keep my bed, piled with pillows and blankets.  And the floor of the loft would be covered in richly colored carpets that would always be soft and never get dirty.  I'd have a window seat in my loft, where I could comfortably read one of the books from the packed bookshelves all over the house.  I'd also have a desk somewhere in this cottage, a big one, where I could store beautiful, thick paper and various fancy ink pens.  I would have a hammock in the backyard somewhere, someplace I could stare up at the stars.  Inside the cottage, it would always be at a comfortable brightness, but with no light source other than the sunlight visible.  Even at night.  It would be a place where I could wear flowery sundresses and rain boots if I really wanted to, but I would always wear some sort of dress from a giant wardrobe.  And of course I would never have to do laundry.