I found myself recently fantasizing about winning the lottery. I do that whenever one of the big games goes over, say, 150 million dollars. At that level, I'll usually even buy a few tickets.
Of course, anything below $150 million isn't worth buying. I don't know why it takes some extravagant sum to get my interest. I'd run down Highway 520 naked if I won $10,000 at a school auction, but a lottery payout of $10 million won't even get me to glance at the machine.
By God, if I win, I want to be "kiss my you know what" rich. Every charity on three continents will be calling daily. I don't want to own a sky box at Cowboy's Stadium. I want to own the stadium. Drive a Ferrari? Forget it. My fat, bald-headed self will never press another gas pedal as long as I live. Someone named Hans or Alfred will drive me wherever I go.
Trash the lawn mower, I'll hire someone to cut it with hairdresser scissors. I'll just call my lawyer's malpractice insurance 'cause I won't be gracing the office door anymore. The only time I'll see morning is if I'm coming in at night.
Oh yeah, I can hardly wait. But, you know, what really worries me is not the I might not win the lottery, but what if someone I know wins the lottery.
For years, at Christmas, I've bought each relative a lottery ticket. Truth be known, I'll need an immediate defibrillator if any of them won. Imagine, I bought the ticket and now my cousin is driving a Rolls Royce sending me post cards from Belize. If I asked for a $100 dollar loan they'd probably have me served with a restraining order.
I can just see one of my best buddies winning and telling me about the apartment in Paris, the French maid, and the Arabian horses. They probably won't wish to hear anymore about Monster Truck Racing or the fish I caught at the creek. Come to think of it, they don't want to hear about it now.
Oh well, I think the lottery right now is small. I'll buy a ticket but if I don't win, I sure hope it's not anybody I know who does.
Contact columnist T. Gamble at firstname.lastname@example.org.