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Fantasies suck sometimes.

So I'm spending a miserable night sitting at the computer, completely regretting that cheeseburger with onions I had for supper, as I was up at 4am with terrible heartburn.

I was browsing half-heartedly for something to read when all I really wanted to do was go back to bed and *sleep* when I thought, "Hmm. Tonight was the megamillions drawing. I guess I might as well go check the numbers."

First. No, I didn't win. Had I won, I wouldn't be writing this, as I would have had a heart attack and died upon the realization. No, I didn't win the jackpot but my team at work goes in on lottery tickets each month and we did get four out of five numbers. Just enough for me to sit here and think "I was 2 numbers (1 plus the megaball) away from being pretty damned rich". It would have broken down to about 5.5 million apiece after taxes.

I could live on that.

So, of course, that made me think of.... "Oh, what could I do if I won it all myself?" Which led to browsing of home plans and luxury furniture sites and fantasies of paying off my relatives so they never bother me again, then retreating to an undisclosed location in a beautifully temperate state somewhere. (As opposed to my current location that has a heat index of 110 this time of year.)

Or possibly another country. Live on a gorgeous, secluded estate with a small staff to take care of the place and live a life of luxury while I spend my days playing my piano, painting or writing.

Shit. Now I'm depressed as well as heartburn-ridden. I wish I'd waited until in the morning to check the damn numbers. Has anyone else noticed that fantasies like that seem so close to possible in the night that it's almost painful?

I'm taking some Tums and going back to bed.





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