Excuse me, could you break this million dollar bill?

Nobody is getting any work done today.  I’d be worried that Boss Man would notice, but it’s his fault.  He bought us an office lottery ticket, and now we’re not doing anything but figuring out how to spend our winnings.

Jackpot is a record $540 million dollars.  Let’s set aside all discussions of taxes, percentage you’d give to charity, buying your mother a house, paying off your student loans and mortgages, all the things you’ll responsibly do first.  Brass tacks, people, big picture.  How are you going to have fun, with your life-altering windfall?

“I’m going to Austin.  And I’m going to buy the best pair of cowboy boots anyone has ever seen,”  said Tina.  I am straight, and so is Tina, but at that point I wanted to throw my arms around her and kiss her face, because that’s what I’m talking about.

“I don’t like to count my chickens before they’re hatched,” said Amy.

I just looked at her hard and didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to start my own open-source software company and put AutoCad out of business,”  said Boss Man.

Snickering and guffawing.  “I love to tell people that at cocktail parties,”  I told him.  “But what else?”

“Well, there’s this pair of sandals I bought back in the seventies, in New Mexico.  They were made out of tires.  They were super comfortable, and I’d like to find another pair.”

I looked at him hard, too.

“I’ll being seeing less of y’all if we win this thing,” I mentioned.

Turns out, everyone has a plan percolating.  During our e-mail discussion this morning regarding our team ticket, Audrey decided she’d have a chalet in France; Julia types in, “I call Santorini.”  I’m going to have a garret apartment in Istanbul, because it will always be my happy place.  I’m keeping my home in Raleigh, because I really do love it here, but I’ll alternate months or something, and then Audrey and Julia and I will take our private jets to Rome and meet up for midmorning coffee at Caffe Greco and pretend we’re poets.

I said the jet thing out loud at the office.  Amy pointed out that my carbon footprint was growing unreasonable.  I looked at her hard again.  That is not how you play this game.  Fine.  If I win the lottery, I’ll buy enough fairy dust to get me there in an ecologically sensitive fashion.

Really, though, the first order of business is the Van Down By The River.  I decided, walking home from lunch, that lottery or no lottery, that’s really not that much to ask.  It’s not in this year’s budget, but then, it’s not outside the realm of eventual possibility.  We’d all like enough to be comfortable; not to have to worry about health care costs, or whether we’re saving enough for retirement (I am NOT, if anyone is wondering,) or what would happen if something big went wrong on our twelve-year-old cars, that kind of thing.  But other than that, things are pretty good overall.   I promised I’d find my boss a pair of tire sandals, at the next hippie music festival I attend.  I told him someone would probably be standing in the mud at Shakori Hills, bartering homemade tire sandals for gas money outside of a van in the parking field.

And as for myself, I’m going to start a savings jar for the Airstream, just in case I don’t win MegaMillions today.  Good luck, all!

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