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February 21, 2004 - 5:37 p.m.
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Mom woke me up early this morning while I was having a nightmare about not completing my thesis. My nightmares are usually of a I'm-a-failure-in-life theme.
The reason Mom woke me up early is because she needed to ask me, at that precise moment while I was sleeping, if I bought a lottery ticket.
Of course, this is part of what I get by living with my parents. The good is that I pay no rent. The bad is that when something pops into their heads, no matter how trivial, and they want to ask me about it, my life stops to answer them. Whether I'm working, on the phone, or sleeping. It is for this reason that I avoid masturbation.
But today in our otherwise sleepy little town, the question, "Did you buy a lottery ticket?" is the most important question ever. Because the local convenience store, where my Dad and I get gas for our vehicles, sold the $230 million mega jackpot (or whatever) lottery ticket.
Our house has been fielding phone calls from various friends and relatives asking if we won, or know who won. Dad can't get to the convenience store today because it's been swarmed by the media. Of course, everyone hopes it's someone they know, and not someone who was just passing through town. As if knowing the winner entitles one to a piece of the money. There's also a feeling of some great miracle striking oh-so-close, with the wonderment of, "Had I just gone in last night to buy a ticket, that winner could have been me ..." Which of course isn't true; this is a pick-your-own-number lottery, and the location of the seller of the winning lottery ticket has nothing to do with winning the jackpot. And then there's the fact that Stephens City, Virginia, is getting its fifteen seconds of national fame right now (when the media outlets get the name of the town right).
I, like everyone else, have a lottery fantasy- what I would do if I won $230 million dollars. For me, it would look something like this: