This week is no different. However, today after I finish, I’m going to go buy a Powerball ticket.
In case you don’t have access to television, radio, phone, or internet, or you don’t go to church, or your neighbors speak Swahili, let me tell you the jackpot has grown to $1.5 billion and counting.
The odds of winning are 1 in 300 million, from what I am told.
I’ve always been told to think positive, so here goes. I am buying one ticket, and I fully expect to win the whole thing.
So, let me walk you through how I see my next few days unfolding.
Tonight, I will fulfill one of my long-time fantasies and order pizza delivery from two different places. In our town, pizza delivery options are pretty pitiful. I don’t like the one Kim likes, and she doesn’t like the one I like. But, tonight, that won’t be an issue because we’re each getting our own.
I will use no coupons. I will bypass the specials. In 30 minutes, I just want to hear two hiccuping Ford Pintos looking for my house at the same time.
The delivery people probably still will only barely thank me when I tip them, but that’s a gripe for another day.
I will call the Powerball people. I’m sure even someone like me will have to listen to all the options because their menu has recently changed, but that’s fine. I’m in no hurry. When that little recording interrupts the music to tell me to continue holding because my call is very important to them, I’ll just relax.
This being richer than double-fudge brownies business has done wonders for my blood pressure already.
Thursday will be a big day.
My truck needs an oil change, and I’ve been too cheap to do it – because I only drive it in town anyway – so I’ll probably take care of that. My wiper blades turned to dust a couple of years ago, so I’ll let them put on a new pair. And, I’ll tell the guy not to worry about sticking the dirty air filter in my face.
“Just change it, and get one for yourself while you’re at it, big fellow.”
And, even though I washed the truck after a million crepe myrtle blossoms fell and stuck to the hood last September, I’ll probably run it through the tunnel.
Hot wax? Under-carriage cleaning? Yes, yes, and you’re welcome. Keep the change.
Then I will call University of Tennessee Athletic Director Dave Hart.
I will tell him where I want to sit in the stadium and who I want – and do not want – sitting next to me. Just to let him know I mean business, I will tell him my entourage will not be buying Cokes at halftime that have been sitting there getting watered down since the first quarter. And, we don’t want those cheap hot dogs, either. We want the all-beef jumbos.
It may cost me a few more zeroes, but while I have the checkbook out, I will strongly suggest we throw the ball down the field more in 2016.
Just as I’m finishing my leftover pizza for lunch, I will announce, “Oh, look, the news trucks are starting to arrive.”
By dusk, I fully expect the street in front of our house to be lined up for a mile in each direction with satellite trucks with news people running up and down the road in a frenetic attempt to get a fresh story angle.
The reporters will probably try to lift their cameras over the fence to get a glimpse of me doing billionaire things. I’ll probably have to take a long stick and poke Geraldo Rivera when he gets too close to the top. I’m especially looking forward to that.
Just in time for the evening news, I’ll hold a press conference. I’m not sure what I will say, but after it’s over, I will invite all the media people over for a big cookout.
I’ll even apologize to Geraldo for poking him with a stick, because that’s the kind of billionaire I am.