Whether because I am – or, in spite of being – a devoted spendthrift, I have never cottoned to lottery of any description. Generally speaking, once I have established what I want, I seek less whimsical and more ambitious means of fulfilling my dreams – such as borrowing from a bank. But the thought and anticipation of winning something by fluke is not a plan I embrace.

I recognize naturally that my predilection for authenticity and certainty comes at a cost. Call it the Perils of the Heart. Yet I find it both preposterous (and highly unlikely) that spending as little $10 on a lottery ticket will afford me any return whatsoever, much less ultimate advantage. First and foremost, the prospect of winning money, without knowing what precisely I wish to use it for, is a deductive vacuum.

Certainly one can manufacture endless illustrations of hopeful expenditure – real estate, furniture, jewelry, travel, whatever – but until one has formulated a distinct selection, the project is but a gamble.  Snap your fingers if you wish, but I maintain that until the appetite is clear and real, the outlook on the balance is not only weak but boring.  Yes, that’s it – uninteresting.  Now, once again, I accept there is excitement surrounding a lottery draw – but that requires patience. And I haven’t a great deal of that particular stoicism. I am not what one might describe as indifferent to the vicissitudes of fortune. Dealing with the calculated matter at hand is, to my mind, more advantageous.

Oddly I find it offensive to my vision of accomplishment to project or wager anything as uncontrollable as a lottery. In this matter – as in my undisputed bias for profligacy – I am ruled not by amount or unlikelihood; rather by the mere act of stepping off the end of a pier in a blindfold. The lottery is a debate awaiting a resolution.

But – as you may already have inferred – my purity in this matter is corrupted by the very inconvenient fact that I have today purchased a lottery ticket from a friend who lives in the building. The reasons – each as classic as you may imagine – need not be iterated for fear of ho-humming you, my dear Reader. Amusingly to me, this seeming act of condescension on my part has unwittingly engaged me and my partner in an uncommon agreement and solidarity. Not that we fight a great deal; just that we’re each independent. Our choices of food more often differ than resemble; we get out of bed and go to sleep at different times; I love to drive, he not so much. So you see, engaging in this supreme act of conjecture (buying the lottery ticket), has given us a new lifetime memory.

Already I am mesmerized by the excitement of hearing the winning tickets – OUR winning tickets – and the fireworks and partying that follows.

But otherwise, nothing special.

It’s a bit late in life for me to be thinking about more stuff. Indeed I can think of nothing that would improve my life. Nonetheless there is adventure thinking about the jokes that would flow from a review of the drama leading to the purchase of the lottery tickets. I am reminded too that the people whom I know who enjoy lottery – they all have money and are tight-fisted. Maybe they know something I don’t? Is there even a connection? Or, is it like everything else is life – a gamble.