Anyone following Canadian Lotto Max (I know, titillating shit) will know that last week was Canada's largest Lotto Max lottery in history - a 50 million dollar prize, along with whatever number of 1 million dollar prizes, not sure/wasn't paying attention. Anyway, I decided to buy my first lottery ticket.
I don't buy lottery tickets because I am a nut job. I become so convinced I will win I tell everyone excitedly what I'm going to buy them. I make plans. I mentally take an afternoon off of work (why does it matter? I won't be there the next week when I'm a MULTI-MILLIONAIRE) to sort out what needs to be done first. It just makes sense that I'll win. For whatever reason, I truly believe I am more likely to win the lottery than anyone else.
So, I bought a ticket. It was fun, I picked my numbers, scratched my little boxes, and brought my ticket up to the merchant. I then panicked, realizing I never discussed what numbers I picked with my husband, which means we could have picked the same numbers and lowered our chances of winning - but as fate would have it (FATE! See?!) we magically picked different numbers. What are the chances of that, I ask you stupid naysayers?
I brought my tickets to work with me the next day, and I'm not ashamed to say it. I kept taking them out of my purse to clutch and pat while I daydreamed the afternoon away. I greeted everyone with an irritatingly cheerful "Got your lottery tickets yet?" just to open the conversation so I could talk about my beloved tickets some more. I signed my name on them, not allowing for any chances that someone might covet them. I even took a picture of them to share with a friend abroad so she could delight in them as well (and she should have, they would have paid for her schooling).
Waiting for the numbers to be drawn was agony, and at 9pm sharp I was there at the website, sure my numbers would appear. I had been practising my speech for a day and a half - "Baby, we won. I fucking told you." It was to the point, funny, representative of our wonderful relationship, poignant...classy. The website said because of the size of the lotto, there would be a delay in posting the numbers. So, I stabbed it.
I didn't actually stab it. I was so frustrated after clicking refresh for 10 minutes (possibly 25) that I took a nap, and awoke at 11pm. Hurrah! Surely the winning numbers must have been posted by then and it wasn't too late to call my parents to give them the happy news and start planning holidays. Alas, to my extreme shock and disappointment, I didn't win. I was stunned. It only made sense that we would win.
I could barely look at the newspaper the next day. The last thing I needed to see was some smug bastard weebling about his new millions and all the charities he'd be donating it to. Finally curiosity got the better of me, and I looked to see who squeaked me out for the millions - and it was no one! Really, the only thing better than losing the lottery is everyone else losing at it as well.
This Friday the Lotto Max stays at 50 million, now with 45 1 million dollar prize giveaways (or something, wasn't paying attention). Tomorrow I'm going to go buy my winning tickets!
Word of the Day: Profligate
Used in a Sentence: What is a profligate, you say? A profligate is a person who spends money prodigiously, extravagantly, wastefully and unabashedly. And I want to be that person.
