Livin’ on the Lotto

Two days ago we got Chris’ first student loan bill.   And then I went to bed for two days and refused to face any form of reality.   In my bed I dreamed of rendevous with Anthropology, Banana Republic, and Betsy Johnson.   I dreamed of nightly visits to the Sushi Palace.   I dreamed of new cars, new houses, and new shoes.   I dreamed of endless afternoons at Target, filling my cart with useless treasures like new face washes and scarves I would never wear.   And when I finally forced myself to get out of bed and face reality, the student loan invoice was, sadly, still sitting on my kitchen counter where I had dropped it in horror.

I get the feeling that student loans are one of those unexpected joys that life sometimes hands you – like the ice cream truck on a random Tuesday afternoon or a root canal.   I knew it was coming, but I still never expected it.   And so, here I sit.   Contemplating the sparse offerings of my checking and savings accounts and crying over our two paychecks which at one time seemed more than enough. I have always been a fan of saving for a rainy day.   But I think when you have student loans, you have a rainy day once a month when your bill arrives.   I’ll call it Monsoon Mondays.   On Monsoon Mondays, I will have to reach into my rainy day fund and hand over my humble earnings like I once handed over my lunch money to a bully.

Monsoon Mondays.   I see no way to avoid them, but I’m a proactive person.   I need a solution.   I need activism.   I need an answer.

I need to win the lottery.

That’s right.   In this situation, there is only one logical solution.   Play the lottery.   So I did.   This morning I bought at Connecticut Lottery ticket and a Powerball ticket.   I feel hopeful.   I mean, how hard can it be?   Someone has to win, and why shouldn’t it be me?   I wish I could submit an application in writing when I bought my ticket though.   I could have laid out our financial crisis, blamed the economy like everyone else, talked about our strong marriage and how of course we didn’t need money to be happy – we just need it to keep a roof over our heads and to feed our dogs because isn’t that what the American dream is all about?   Yeah, I bet I could have won the lottery with a written statement.

Sadly, they don’t ask for a written statement when you buy a lottery ticket.   The gas station clerk didn’t even look up at me.   So, here I sit.   With a mortgage payment, bills to pay, shoes to buy, and a student loan bill that makes me wish I had actually read the textbooks that are now costing me hundreds of dollars in interest.

But I have my lottery tickets.   And I’m hopeful…