i won the lotto.

it’s true. i matched 3 of 5 numbers and won a whopping seven bucks. ‘seven more chances of winning the big one’ i thought as i cashed in my ticket.

i play the lotto. religiously. twice per week, same numbers every time, and i never play more than one dollar per drawing even when the jackpot soars to 100’s of millions – that’s just bad luck. normally, i don’t get my hopes up about winning, although i’ll admit i was a bit bummed after not winning the $500 mil a month ago. still, i was back at the gas station the day after buying my next ticket to freedom, listening to all the idiots saying things like ‘i really thought i had a chance’ (like buying $20 worth really ups your one in a ka-jillion odds at winning) or ‘nah, i’ll pass on a ticket today. what’s the point now.’ (WHAT’S THE POINT?!? $10 MILLION DOLLARS IS THE POINT!!)

so i’m a rational guy. i know the odds are not in my favor to win. and with my shit luck, the odds are even worse. then why do i continue to play? easy. it gives me a chance to dream twice a week. and while i certainly catch myself daydreaming loads more than that during the week, it’s always a bit more exciting to think about what i’d do with $1,000,000. hell, it sure beats dreaming about the prefect grilled cheese, easily running 100+ miles straight like the Tarahumara, or veggies that don’t taste less like ass.

i usually play the ‘what would i do with the money’ game, although i sometimes play ‘what wouldn’t i do with the cash’ – this usually comes after watching a few hours of HGTV. people like kimmy, the blonde southern bell on house hunters complaining that the 4,500 square footer is too small for her, her husband, and her toy poodle poopsie. “i mean really, hun, there are only five bathrooms, and one isn’t even a full bath. right babe? babe? you listening babe?” or leonard, the spray-tanned, bermuda shirt clad bachelor on million dollar rooms justifying the purchase of his fourth ferrari due to the fact his motorized car elevator in his garage the size of my high school has room for (you guessed it) four cars. heaven forbid the fourth stall sit empty. the horror!! the rich, rich horror!!

so what wouldn’t /would i do with all that dough? i wouldn’t go on some crazy spending spree. i wouldn’t buy a house. i’m pretty sure i’d still fly coach, and i’m confident i wouldn’t develop a taste for caviar. i have no interest in that stuff now; money wouldn’t change that. instead, i’d keep my place, my car, my belongings – and why wouldn’t i? my place is great, my car is fantastic, and i’ve spent years collecting my things, most of which are heirlooms or one-of-a-kind finds. plus, i’d likely not be around much to use those fancy new things. instead, with my new loot, i’d travel. EDIT: i’d travel with a purpose. six months in rural russia teaching kids to read, followed by three months in costa rica helping with sea turtle rescue. i’d get back to Nepal, making sure those kids never went to bed hungry ever again. and after that, i’d just keep going. i’d build wells, schools, and clinics, digging and building right alongside the locals. i’d sweat and freeze, laugh and cry, and hopefully finally find a bit of peace doing what i really feel i should be doing. at 32, i’d finally start living life.

that’s my daydream, my idea of a perfect life. it’s almost as if winning the lotto once would open a world of winning it over and over again with each new volunteer opportunity i undertook. so for a chance at that future, i’ll gladly continue to pay my two dollars a week. wouldn’t you?