Ode to a daydream believer
A couple of weeks ago, the lottery jackpot was growing exponentially. It was reaching enormous sums. I fantasized about winning the $444 million Powerball.
Of course, I ran into some crusty, old curmudgeon who said, “The government takes half of it, you know!” Immediately, I began fantasizing about winning $220 million. That jerk made me sell the imaginary jet.
I’d be happy with half. I am grateful for every win. Once, I won a 50-50 raffle and got $157, and I was thrilled (technically, I won $152 because I spent five smackeroos on the ticket).
I was $157 richer (or $152). With that kind of dough, I could buy a nice meal at some fancy-schmancy restaurant or go to the Olive Garden six times.
P.S. Speaking of dough, I don’t get the appeal of the Olive Garden. What’s so great about unlimited breadsticks when they’re undercooked? Would it kill them to put them back in the oven for five more minutes? Breadsticks are supposed to crunch. I don’t want a limp, floppy breadstick.
But I digress, like I do. It’s a common daydream, strolling into the office and telling your boss to take the job and shove it somewhere it, most likely, wouldn’t fit. I’m not that guy, but I’m not the “I’m going to keep on working because I like it” person either. I would slide out the moment the money was in my bank account, but I’d be polite about it.
Who has time to work when there is a whole wide world to see? I’m going to be wintering on a beach in Australia. Of course, I’ll keep a house in Pittsburgh to visit family and friends.
My fantasy is all about travel. I don’t want to live like a Kardashian. I don’t need Maseratis and haute couture. I’d be perfectly happy walking around the Acropolis and Eiffel Tower in ripped jeans and a Spider-Man T-shirt.
I’d be off to the beach first. Somewhere warm. It turns out I don’t need millions of dollars. I just need the sun on my face a little more often. I tend to do most of my million-dollar daydreaming during the winter.
At the gym the other day, instead of swimming laps, I stood in the corner of the pool and marched in place because there was this one square patch of sun streaming in through the window. I commandeered it like a big, ole puddy cat.
Playing millionaire is fun. It was a total fantasy. I don’t even play the lottery, and, like they say, “You gotta be in it to win it.” I will, on occasion, buy a scratchy, and, yes, I get excited when I win $2, even if I spent two bucks on the ticket. It means I can buy another scratchy or walk away Even Steven.
I am happy with what I have, but I love to dream big.