Not sure what happened today during church. I do know the sermon went in one ear and out the other - but that's not exactly anything new or special.
Coffee was good today - which is always a plus. The last couple of times I'm not quite sure what the ladies were brewing in back - a weird concoction that tasted like two parts Postum and one part Sanka.
Shit, where was I?
Church ... coffee ... forgettable sermon. Right, lottery tickets! I was sitting in church and I started rummaging through my wallet where I found an old lottery ticket. I know it was mine because I had scribbled my signature on the front. Last thing I want to do is win big, die from the shock and leave Norton to claim my prize. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't make a good movie ... and I can't (and won't) imagine Norton riding a motorcycle naked.
Looking at my ticket I was filled with hope. I zoned out to that special place where lottery dreams dwell. It is a happy place. Such a happy place. I looked at the ticket and the array of numbers. Was it a winner?
Did it really matter? Sure it mattered, but only if it was a winner.
As it was it represented hopes and dreams and wonder of what could be.
I smiled and put the ticket back in my wallet and tried to pick up the thread of the sermon. Margaret must have seen the ticket and whispered, "We should check that, you never know."
"No we don't, and I kind of like it that way."
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