A lottery ticket in my pocket

I've been carrying around a couple of Mega Millions lottery tickets in my wallet for a while. I play the Lottery occasionally, usually when I'm buying a six-pack and I'm feeling a little more desperate than usual. You know I'm really reaching for straws when I plunk down a dollar for a quick pick. Gee, maybe there is one chance in a gazillion that I'll win millions and millions of dollars. I mean, somebody's gotta win, why not me?

Well, the quick answer is no, no one has to win, that's the way the Lottery is set up. I don't even really expect to win. I guess that's a good thing; then I'm never disappointed. Or I play Cash Winfall, which usually doesn't have a pot of much more than a million. I don't want God to think I'm greedy. Really, Lord, I can get by on $750,000.

I think what you're really buying for your dollar is a little bit of hope. That ticket in your hand is a license to dream a bit. Who hasn't ticked off the things they'd do if they scored big? Pay off debts, buy a boat, throw a party for all your friends, help some of your friends out (the real fun is picking which friends you'd invite and which friends you'd help.) You can really get a sense of someone's values when they start dreaming about winning the Lottery.

Me? I swear I won't change, but who knows if that's true. I can't imagine having that much money not changing a person. On the surface I say I'd still drive a beat-to-shit pickup ('cause now I could really afford the gas) and maybe drinking better beer, but that's me just trying to cast himself as a common man.

But I do know one thing, after setting up my kids, Sue and I would get the hell out of Dodge, for a long, long time.

Oh, and I checked this morning and I wasn't carrying a winning ticket, which is why I'm typing this in an office in Boston, and not from some warm beach somewhere with Sue sitting next to me in her bikini.