So I canceled the yacht. Asked escrow to void my purchases of the three additional manors in Gates 9, 10 and 11, and even, sadly, voided the Malibu Beach property.
More heartbreakingly, I had to renege on the full scholarships, food and shelter for a lifetime to youngsters and oldsters in the universe, at least temporarily.
No, as was revealed cruelly on television once again, I did not win the lottery.
And I’m so used to winning. I won the Misses America contest, the Pulitzer, an Oscar, plus first prize in the prestigious Laguna Woods fiction writing contest.
Now that I recall (and I don’t recall much), only one of those is true. Yeah, it was our library event. My winning entry was a letter to Ben Franklin, purportedly from his mother, and she was even better than me in the field of nagging, which seems impossible, frankly.
I guess it was presumptuous of me to believe that I, even with my good intentions, would be the billion-dollar winner.
I also always enter the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes. Even purchased 380 magazine subscriptions thinking it would help. It didn’t.
I dated the mailman thinking he had the power to, you know, deliver the goods. He delivered, but nothing I want to talk about here. And I still didn’t win.
I missed my son’s wedding because I wanted to be home in case the folks from Publishers Clearing House came calling with my windfall. And the amount I spent on wheelbarrows to carry the dough to the bank would astound even the Village boards.
I lost hope.
And then … holy moly! I won $2 in the Mega Millions lottery! I needed a minute to process this. Wowie!
With these funds, I will donate to my numerous charities, including the half-price sale at Nordstrom’s Women’s Department.
Until the check is safely deposited – because this is too big a burden to decide by myself, in addition to being aware how great wealth can corrupt, though I am not actually aware, but I’ve heard – I’ve hired financial advisors,…
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