Better Luck Next Time

Although my wish is to be cremated, if I were to have a headstone, these are the four words I expect would appear on it:

Better Luck Next Time.

I see these four words almost every time I play the lottery. Except when I "win." (Collecting $2.00 at least pays for the stinkin' ticket, I guess.)

How many times have I experienced some bizarre coincidence in my life and said, "What are the odds of that happening?"

Apparently, occurrences such as these are limited to things that will not make me rich.

Yesterday, in a whirlwind of hope and desperation, I purchased not my usual one but three lottery tickets.

I plead with the lottery gods. I will do good with my winnings. I won't go all Johnny Depp or Michael Jackson. I will not buy 16 cars and 7 houses or an island or the bones of the Elephant Man.

I will pay off my debts, my son's debts and donate a portion of the winnings to charity. I will do good works.

My needs are simple. I don't need 200 million or even 50 million. I could be very happy with, say, 2 million. I'd be a responsible curator of the cash, truly I would. If just given half the chance.

It's fun to fantasize about what I'd do in the astronomically improbable event of winning a boatload of cash.

Alas, I know in my heart of hearts that I'm bound to slog my way through life the old-fashioned way.

"Winning that much money just causes other kinds of headaches," quip well-meaning friends. Although the headaches they cite, when challenged, are things like, "people will want money from you" and "there are the taxes to deal with."

Oh, boo hoo. I say, bring it on. With that much money, I could buy a case of Tylenol, change my name and move. Hire an accountant. And a second accountant to watch the first accountant.

Oh well.

Just for the record, those three tickets I bought yesterday...not one single number matched. I probably should have waited until the end of the weekend to check.

Now I already know I have to go to work on Monday.