Above the cash register, colorful rainbows of ads slap my face--buy a Lotto ticket! This time, I do just that. Once about every 5-8 years, I buy a lottery ticket in order to feel the hot juice of maybe-I'll-win-what-will-I-do-with-all-that-money adrenaline rush through my body.
I go home and carefully read the ticket stub because I've forgotten how to determine my winning status, it's been so long.
It's Wednesday, and I find I have to wait until Friday, 7:30 PM.
Friday evening arrives and departs, and I've missed the Lotto train, my attention on other things. However, sometime between midnight and 2 AM, I awake to the realization that I may be a multi-millionaire--worth 77 million. Rainbows of colorful exclamation points arch above me, a corona of anticipation.
I go online to the website, check out my particular mega-game . . . and, you guessed it, haven't won a damn thing. Not even one number matching!
How can that be?
My reaction is the same as in my foggy remembrance of years past : indignation. What do you mean I don't have a winning ticket? Do you think I buy these tickets to lose? Why would you expect me to keep buying tickets if I don't win? Do you think I'm an idiot?
("Don't answer that last question," my mind whispers to me.)
Most likely, though, in another 5-8 years I'll buy another ticket and take my chances. It's the gambler in me. I'm Mr. Lucky--blessed with wife and family, career, health, joy. Someone just needs to notify the gambling commission--I'm a winner, so spread the icing on the celebration cake.
Copyright 2013 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved
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