My Perfect Job, Version 67.1

So, I thought I wanted to do something adventureous and world-spanning with my life, like working as a Foreign Service Officer. Then, today at the supermarket, I had an epiphany:
WHAT WAS I THINKING?!
I abhor change: I won't even try the store-brand breakfast cereal because I'm afraid it won't taste as good as Cheerios and I will have wasted $1.95 in a vain attempt to save 70¢.
And the whole moving thing? I'm not really a fan. How am I supposed to collect every cell-phone bill I've ever received if I have to cart filing cabinets around wherever I go?
I want to be an English professor, specializing in freshman composition courses. I want to park myself and my stuff in one gingerbready 1920s house gradually fixed up just the way I like it in one great neighborhood within an easy distance of one pretty university or college somewhere with a semi-tropical or Mediterranean climate and I want to get to know all my neighbors and I want my kids to grow up in the local public schools (unless they're supersmart and want to go Catholic, which I'd completely understand) and I want town traditions and weddings and funerals and stability.
I can always dream about Romania—it seems so much nicer when I don't have to pack.