Well, it’s happened again. The folks at Publishers Clearing House sent me a message that “A winner has been chosen.” How fantastic. If it’s not me, I really could not care less. So, last Friday was the day fated for my big check to arrive, but, get this, it didn’t. No large vehicle pulled up out front, with crews unloading lights, cameras, and balloons. I did not even answer the door. I saw no reason to smile broadly or cry out joyfully. Two years ago, I informed my faithful readers that I felt really, really close to the big payday. Well, hourly updates were coming in for the last two weeks from PCH. I’ve been working hard to maintain my Presidential Preferred Status by buying only essentials like cushioned jar openers. It’s all a big mystery because I know they have a map to my house. There it is, on each announcement, surrounded by the lots of happy people in PCH blazers, tossing fistfuls of cash into the air. But, once again, nothing but disappointment.
They tell me that “We’d really appreciate an order.” Yes, well, and I’d really appreciate a large check with lots of zeros on it, made payable to me. At this point, I’d even appreciate it if they sent me a roll of all-purpose electrical tape for free, but that’s not going to happen either. The really sad part is that every few days I scroll through pages of items that I’ve already bought and put in the basement (or pull out of a drawer and wonder what it’s supposed to do), considering it an investment in the dream house or the five grand a week for life, or stuff we really don’t need because . . . . we don’t need it. And my horoscope has told me not to make frivolous purchases that day, so I’d limit myself to the chair cushions I bought at the dollar store and the hose holders on Amazon – just the bare minimum. How many lilac dish towels can the average household use? I don’t know when the last time was that I needed a baseball cap with a miner’s light attached. Truth be told, I haven’t done any mining in a quite some time. And those cute little yard signs with the house number? I live in a condo – the unit number is everywhere. By the front and back doors, over the garage. The only one that has trouble finding us is the Amazon delivery guy. He thinks we’re a sub-delivery service because he leaves everything for the neighbors with us.
There was another reminder just the other day of my sorry track record. Some guy in Massachusetts won $1 million on a five-dollar scratch ticket. How did that happen? He bought the ticket at a convenience store. Ok, I can try that. I picked up a ticket at a 7-Eleven in the next town, thinking that would do it – the ticket gods wouldn’t recognize me there. Nope, nothing. No good. Then, adding insult to injury were some Massachusetts people on Lottery Dream House the next night that won another million (that could so easily have come to me) who were buying a vacation home in New Hampshire. These people are all around me flaunting winnings, and here I sit. So now I’m back to my lucky supermarket. They’ve sold some winning tickets and a big lottery prize. I figure that winning big is like real estate – location, location, location. It’s not me or the tickets themselves, it’s the place where I buy them that’s the critical missing piece. I just have to find it. If you’ve read my previous writings, you know that I’ve tried buying tickets out of state. That hasn’t done it. I may have mentioned before that I bought Powerball tickets in Florida three weeks in a row while we were there vacationing several years ago, only to have someone in Florida win big the week after we left. Are you kidding me? My biggest haul was $7 in New Jersey. By the time I was travelling through New Jersey again, I’d lost the ticket. That happens to me. I also won $5 at my lucky location in Maine – a convenience store that positively sparkles with luck in Kittery, and couldn’t find the ticket the next time we were going back. It didn’t really seem a worthwhile investment to burn through twenty bucks worth of gas on a special trip to redeem $5, so I put it safely away until the next trip up, and well, there you are. It vanished away like the dew in the morn. So, where are we on the master plan? Playing consistently at my lucky places hasn’t landed the big payoff for which I’m waiting patiently. Mixing it up, playing it around hasn’t done the job either. And I’m beginning to get the feeling that the folks at Publishers Clearing House are just stringing me along with tantalizing offers of knife sharpeners, plastic food containers with attractive, multicolored lids, and iris bulbs.
I suppose that the very nature of “lottery” suggests that unsuitable people (that is, anyone not me, or not likely to throw some of the winning loot my way) could win. That opens up the possibilities to those that don’t have a fundamental appreciation for fortunes, members of organized crime, or those that already have pots of money and thus don’t need it. I know that, were I to win, I’d spread the largesse to any number of deserving people and organizations. I’d be a model of virtue and respectability. No conspicuous consumption for me, not even that Bentley that I’ve had my eye on. You may have seen it in the online ads – it’s the dark green one with cognac leather interior. No matter. My winnings would be invested wisely and with restraint, overruling Her Ladyship’s desire to send checks to everyone she knows. Please, lottery people, just give me the opportunity to spread goodness and joy.
So, new plan. I’m going to buy selectively where I happen to be. I’m not going to stop everywhere to buy a ticket – that kind of “spreading a blanket over a wide area” doesn’t seem to pay off, and has proved costly. If it’s shopping in my lucky grocery store, then a strategic purchase isn’t out of the realm of possibility. If it’s an out-of-the-way convenience store or gas station, then we go for it. If the convenience store happens to be next door to one of my favorite nurseries, that in itself is a positive vibe and a really good sign so we plunge ahead. I know in my heart it’s just a matter of time, careful planning, and all will come to fruition. Of course, my father used to say “No amount of planning and preparation ever replaces dumb luck.” It’s just so frustrating to hear a million-dollar winner say, as they’re collecting their moolah, “Yeah, I was just passing and randomly picked up the winning ticket. I don’t usually play much.” AHHH! I’m off now to cash in the two dollars I won last night. I know what you’re thinking – that’s better than nothing. True, but it’s not going to put Papa in a beach house in Key West, is it? How long must I wait for that seaside resort bungalow in Portugal? I’ll keep on impatiently, taking a Portuguese lesson or two, until next week – surely that’s going to be the one. Or, I’m thinking . . . . . . . possibly not!
I'm Thinking...No! 