I haven't written a post in days because I am not the Queen of England, or of any country for that matter, and so I have to do everything for myself, and this week it's been getting ready to go on a trip. And it's on an airplane, which I have not done in a year and a month. Since I'm out of practice packing has been more exhausting than usual, and makes travel barely worthwhile if you ask me, especially since it involves  many hours of being not only squashed into a tiny seat but also face-masked!

If I were Queen of Anywhere, I could just wake up in the morning and get dressed, or be dressed by one of my servants, and go off confident that all my special needs had been seen to by my underlings. They would have packed everything and I could have relaxed all week. But alas, not in this life.

The Queen of England is greatly on my mind because I just finished watching The Crown on Netflix. Then the day after seeing the last episode, Prince Phillip died, her husband of 74 years. I'm pretty sure the Queen did not have to sit on the phone on hold, calling various funeral homes to arrange for his burial. That's another perk of royalty.

I wonder what I forgot.