Answer: “I’d Buy Myself A Brand New Life!”

Yesterday I posed the question “What would I do if I won the lottery? Today I plan to answer it. Before I do though, let me tell you how my morning started.

I woke up at four when my husband’s alarm went off, and took my anti-inflammatory meds. I’m taking all my meds properly, have been on them for five days now, and still am feeling really sluggish. Haven’t been able to figure out why. Slow healer? Anyway, an hour later I’m awakened again, and this time by his bitching. There’s no water and he can’t find one bandana out of a stack of dozens he used to have (my husband is a drywall finisher and wears them faithfully to cover his long locks while working). I know he’s blaming my teenage son, and thinks he’s been carting them off to school. Wait! What? We have no water?

Yeah, it took me a few minutes to process that. Now I’m sitting up in bed and asking him, “What do you mean we have no water?”

“I mean there’s no water. None!” he says frantically searching through a laundry basket of clean, folded clothes I’ve yet to put away. “The cistern is dry.”

“Which means something is wrong with the well, right?” I ask, trying to sound calm, though I’m freaking the hell out because here we go again with the water!

“I don’t know. I don’t have time right now to screw with it. I’m late!”

He slips out the bedroom door, no kiss, no nothing. I just lie there and groan “Great!”

My alarm goes off at six and I head for my sons room to wake him up. I’m sitting on the edge of his bed in my ratty, blue robe asking him if he has any idea what happened to all the bandana’s in the house, and just then have a ‘feeling’. I rush from the room yelling at him I’ll be right back, and head for the bathroom. I found out pretty quick why I’m feeling sluggish. I started my period. I started my period and I have no water! How’s that for freakin, perfect timing? And people wonder why I say “When shit happens, it always happens to me!”

The answer to the question: What would I do if I won the lottery? Is… “I’d buy myself a brand new life!”

My husband and I often joke if we win the lottery we’re splitting the money and going our separate ways. People at our local gas station and convenience store laugh when we tell them this, because we can be quite comical when we’re bantering in public. Also, because it’s a joke, right? Is it? I honestly don’t know anymore. I sometimes wonder if isn’t just easier for us to stay together and ‘keep’ what we have, and if we didn’t need to then we wouldn’t. I can’t speak for my husband, but I know I for one miss the separate identity I had before we got together. I also often wish I ‘d given more thought before marrying again. My kids were on their way out the door; I was tasting freedom for the first time in my adult life, and then saddled myself again with yet another person to take care of. WTF? I’ve been worrying about someone else, altering my life for another, and making sacrifices since I met my first husband at the age of 16. For thirty-two years now I’ve done this. Would I stay married if I came into that much money and not have an opportunity to enjoy it the way I wanted? I can’t say that option looks promising. Just being honest.

I believe I’d probably go away. I’d rent out a storage unit for all my personal, sentimental things, pack my bags, tuck my Chihuahua under my arm, and walk out the door. I’d cash in that ticket, and run far. Wouldn’t you? Would anyone want to be a part of the frenzy that follows lottery winners: Fair-weather friends coming out of the woodwork looking for a handout, family reminding you of how much they’ve done for you, your children asking for anything and everything to accommodate a lifestyle they desire to have, every imaginable charity giving you a sob-story, and the media beating down your door asking the question everyone wants to know “What are you going to do with the money?” Before you even have a chance to catch your breath, gather your thoughts together and say “I’m going to finally live my life, that’s what!” it’s all gone, and you can’t. Wow! Not me!

I’m under the opinion I can love anyone from anywhere, and if that were to happen I suspect I’d love my friends, family, and children from Turtle Island in Fiji for a while. Just me, my little dog, a lot of sunscreen, swimwear, and alcohol. That would give me ample opportunity to plan for my future. I’m getting on, there isn’t a lot of it left, so how difficult should that be?

I don’t see myself changing a lot. You can’t buy class, whether people think they can or not. It’s like adorning a pig with jewels; it’s just not a good fit. I’d probably get a nip/tuck here and there just to build my self-esteem a little, invest in my health by hiring a person trainer and nutritionist, get a bit more ink, a lot more leather, indulge in my madness for bags and shoes, and maybe finally buy that soft-tail I should’ve long ago. Or, purchase one and find myself a part-time ‘yummy’ to cart me around on it so I can still partake of adult beverages while riding. I’d buy myself a couple, quaint, vacation cottages (one on the coast of Massachusetts and one in the Keys), travel to places like Russia, France, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales researching my family tree, and just live my life. I’d set each of my children up with a trust that they couldn’t touch unless they got a degree (thereby ensuring they would have something to fall back on if they squandered it), give a gift of money to each of my siblings, by a marble bench and place it near the grave of my best friend who’s passed to honor her, and build my, Pandora Patty a beautiful, country home right next to mine so we’d never have to be a part again. If I donated anything to charity, it would probably be to sponsor homeless families and aid in the education of under-privileged children. I may even set myself up in a small business: A coffee house, cozy bar, or up-scale thrift store. I’d write. I would finally find the inspiration to do so.

These are things I would do. They may seem terribly materialistic, but when you’ve never had much this tends to be what you desire the most. Money can’t buy happiness, I agree; but it sure can make being miserable a whole lot more tolerable. Oh, and one last thing to add to the list: A 1970 ‘Hugger Orange’ Road Runner. Yeah, baby!

3 thoughts on “Answer: “I’d Buy Myself A Brand New Life!”

  1. “I’d probably get a nip/tuck here and there just to build my self-esteem a little, invest in my health by hiring a person trainer and nutritionist”

    A-hem…I am glad you have settled on getting yourself a “person” trainor, versus a “dog” trainer or a “Lion Tamer”. Hiring a dog trainer for your personal health might involve that whole leash and collar thing. And I thought we just agreed, those are only good for straying husbands? And what if this dog trainers view of nutrition involved getting you down on all fours and chomping hash from a bowl?

    I guess everyone thinks about that big lottery win. Lots of people tell me about all the money they’d give away. I suspect this is to prove they are good people, deep down inside. I like to think the same about myself, but I never think about giving money away. I figure, whatever’s left when I croak, they can have it then. Mean time, I need that money. All $273 million of it!

    But I would buy land, maybe with an old house, and build a series of small cabins, like a campground, or compound, giving each family member, as well as the older neices and nephews, their own cabins to decorate as they like. We used to visit our grandparents place in the ‘country’ on Sundays and it still sits in all of our hearts (demolished by public domain to build a bus garage for the local school district!)

    And I’d do more of what I am already doing. Grow MORE food, have more animals…a couple of Clydesdales, adopt a few greyhounds. A string of racehorses. A captivity tank for hot movie stars – I think George Clooney has been on the loose far too long. It’s time he settled down with me now. With lots of money, I can hire a team of disgruntled ex-navy seals and green berets to go and fetch him for me. Special ops.

    Yeah. That’s it. Thats my retirement plan.

      1. Yeah, okay…kinda screwed up on the ‘personal-trainer’ thing. Published it before realizing I dropped the a and l. Too funny though, cause actually the ‘person’ trainer is probably more appropriate. Of course I keep telling my husband that better men than him have tried and failed so don’t bother (thus the whole, third husband, thing). Gotta admit though, this one has gotten a hell of a lot more compromise out of me then the others did.
        Good for you admitting your selfish. Me too! Like what…they think you’re going to win the lottery again and be able to replace it? Go freakin find Donald Trump or Bill Gates if you want a handout!
        Yeah, I picked up pretty quick from your blog that you’d fit nicely on an acreage like mine. It’s peaceful, plenty of room to grow things if you like, but winters are a nightmare.
        I can’t say I’d be much interested in the captivity tank for hot movie stars…maybe some hot rocker’s (yet again, the whole ink and hair thing I’ve never outgrown). I definitely wouldn’t kick Bret Michaels out of my bed for eating crackers!

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