I have someone to talk to when I come home. When I open the refrigerator, there’s a fabulous selection of delicacies. She cooks me exciting things from her recent trip to Brazil. Every night, she rewraps the bandage on my burn. She even runs errands for me – picking up my dry cleaning, going grocery shopping, buying me flowers. It’s been a godsend, and I for a while, I had no idea what I’ll do when she’s gone.

After much thought, I’ve decided to take applications for a personal assistant. The work isn’t glamorous, but you’ll have plenty of time to sit in cafes sipping café crème or browsing the bookseller collections along the Seine. It doesn’t pay much – well, nothing really – but at least you’ll have the satisfaction of taking care of me. You’ll have to find your own place to live and be at my beck and call, but hey, you’ll be living in Paris and how fabulous is that?!?

I’ve always prided myself in being very independent. In fact, I have a hard time letting people do things for me. I feel much more comfortable giving rather than receiving. But recently I’ve started to think that maybe I do need to be taken care of. That’s an unsettling idea because I always thought I could take care of myself just fine. Well, maybe it’s time for a change.

So here are the qualifications I’m looking for:

• Excellent organizational skills – right now paperwork, days, and responsibilities flutter around me like snowflakes. I need someone to keep me on track.
• Solid knowledge of first aid. Enough said.
• Energy, exuberance, and a great smile. I have days when I need a cheerleader.
• Massage skills a plus, but not required. My feet are killing me.
• Good at anticipating my future needs. Milk is getting low? Please buy me some more.
• Exceptional fashion sense. Since I don’t have enough time to go shopping, I’d like someone who has an intimate knowledge of Paris fashion and will search high and low to find the perfect outfit. Love beautiful shoes? You’re hired.
• Outstanding listening skills. Sometimes I just need to vent my frustration over my job.
• First-rate sense of humor a must. Make me laugh, and I’ll forget everything.
• Finally, the perfect applicant must have a love of food and wine. Tempt me with new ideas, flavors, and aromas and I’ll be a happy girl.

There you have it. Well, I wish it could be that simple! Interested applications should send resumes and photos (of course) to me. And remember, don’t call us, we’ll call you.

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