If a winning lottery ticket fell from the sky

I don’t play the lottery so the slim odds of me winning are even more slim than the average lottery player’s slim odds. But if I managed to win the lottery without even playing, I would do all the super obvious crap like pay off my mortgage, share some with relatives and donate to worthy charities. Those are not interesting answers but they are the honest ones. But if it’s magic that I won without playing, then it might as well be sick huge magic amounts of money I won. And if I was swimming in money, I’m sure I could get crazy with it so I thought I'd participate in Holly and PG Sisters' link up today.

I would not quit my job though. Primarily because I like my job. But also because it’s a long life to live with no purpose and direction. Maybe down the road I’d find a new purpose and direction or scale back to part time or something. But in the short term, I’d stay. Although my tolerance for stupidity would probably go down and I’d be significantly less likely to restrain myself from pointing it out. And is it wrong that I wouldn’t want to tell my employer or all my coworkers that I had won? Because I wouldn’t. Not all. Just some. Just sayin.

Beyond the obvious stuff, the first crazy thing I would do would be to buy the house next door to us. Not the house with the neighbors we love. No, I’d buy the house on the other side. The one with the neighbors that don’t like dogs and think our kids are too loud in our pool. We’ve got a lot of dog and children that don’t know how to do anything quietly. I feel confident we’re the annoying Clampetts in the neighborhood to them. 

Our neighbors do significantly less making out with dogs.

But I wouldn’t buy their house to make them feel better. I don’t run a charity to fund the lives of people that find me annoying. I’d buy their house so I could rip it down to make our yard bigger. We love our house and our neighborhood. We love them very much. But a bigger and better backyard would be nice.

I’d have a professional landscaper/designer attempt to make it pretty because we currently have a dog poop filled yard we’ve done nothing with because the dogs that produce all the poop also eat anything pretty we try to have in our yard. I’d give up on having flowers and just shoot for sturdy stuff my dogs won’t eat like decorative rocks and shrubs.

But we’d definitely need a nice covered deck/pergola with Pottery Barn outdoor curtains and lounge furniture. And a ceiling fan. In the pergola. Because outdoor fans are fancy and crazy money means fancy. So are built in BBQ grills and a sink outside next to the grill. Holla.

I’d also use the extra space to build my husband a freestanding workshop with electricity, plumbing, central heat and air and enough space for all his tool related crap. I’d put in nice windows so he could watch the kids swim while he works in there or maybe doors that open up so completely it’s almost like his workshop is an extension of the pool area when the doors are open. 

I like how far the doors open on this workshop. 

Although building my husband a workshop might sound generous and thoughtful (and at least part of it is because I do think he’d really like it – if nothing else the air conditioning) but it would also free up our garage so we can park actual cars in there instead of rolling tool benches and shelving. As an example, we currently have huge box of MRE rations in our garage. When I seemed confused by this, my husband actually used the word “doomsday” to explain why he was hanging on to them after getting them for free. He could have a special attic in his workshop just to store these items.

I’d also consider expanding my house. I don’t know that we “need” a bigger house. But if this is crazy money, who the hell’s even thinking about “need” anymore? I might as well have a guest room, an office and an exercise room. I suppose the kids could have a playroom too. You know, other than every room in our house. Because that’s where their crap is now. Sigh.

I’d buy my husband the new car of his choosing. I wouldn’t even go to the dealership with him to buy it or weigh in on the decision in any way. I’d just witness him pulling up in the new car with a smile on his face. He’s been driving my old car lately and it has many fun features as a result of hitting 100,000 miles including a keyless entry system that no longer works. Remember back in the day when you used to have to insert the key into the car door? Well, we’re back in that day doing that every day. And the back right door is permanently child proofed and you have to open the door for your nine year old every time you get out even though she’s long since proven herself trustworthy with doors.

The old car.  Our definition of a make it work moment: Walking out of walmart with 4 cheapo plastic Addirondak chairs and realizing we incorrectly assumed we'd driven there in our SUV. Classic.

I’d also give him free reign to buy the Harley Davidson he’s wanted to buy for several years now. He once tried to tell me he was getting one when our daughter was six months old. I once tried to ask him where he planned to put his daughter’s baby carrier on the back of it. He once tried to tell me gas prices are high. I once tried to tell him that bus passes are cheap, too. He once tried to tell me I was a controlling wench. I once tried to tell him to suck it and win the lottery. If we successfully won the lottery without playing, he could buy as many as he could store in his aforementioned workshop since we’d be parking cars in the garage by this point.

Crazytown.

I’d also hire a housekeeper. Someone to magically appear and disappear every day when we’re not home leaving things tidy and perfect and dinner in the oven just waiting for our hungry mouths. She’d magically read our mind and know without being told what we were in the mood for that day. “Oh, it’s Thursday. They’ll definitely want pot roast tonight after a long week. Oh, it’s Thursday, I bet Mexican will sound good tonight. Let me have some chips warming and fresh salsa on the table when they walk in.” My frozen margarita would be in the fridge waiting for me in a glass that’s not made of plastic with colored sugar decoratively placed around the rim.

She’d also magically appear and disappear in the night to leave lunches packed. And our cupboards would always be stocked with snacks we like and fruit that doesn’t have fungus on it. 

I’d hire a nanny. Someone to magically transport my children to and from practices and lessons and school and other kids' houses and other kids' birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese hell and the mall and Target and anywhere else their little heart’s desire without me having to get up off my lazy butt.

The nanny would be sweet and fun but still firm and a guiding presence. She would be capable of reading minds and knowing when I’m stuck in traffic and jet over to be where I should have been and her presence would be so warm and soothing that my kids would not complain or want to know where I was when I walk in 4 ½ minutes late. Because it’s 4 ½ minutes not Armageddon so maybe we should all keep it in perspective. 

When my trainwreck son requires stitches, she would stand in line for us at the emergency room so that we can walk in the door right when it’s time to see the doctor. She would be in charge of filing prescriptions while I lay in bed next to sick kids cuddling them.

I’d hire a personal trainer. Someone I like and with a great sense of humor. Perky but not annoying. Firm and motivating but not Jillian. They’d call to wake me up before they got there and they’d always have lots of interesting stories to tell me while we work out. The kind of interesting stories that would make me not want to cancel because I’m waiting to hear how things turn out with their cousin’s trip to Aruba with the crack head boyfriend with no job and a suspended driver’s license. They’d also have a magic wand capable of eliminating my Jelly Belly and firming up my rear. 

The view running with my husband.  Ideally, my personal trainer would instead run next to me and talk endlessly to keep me entertained. 

Finally, we’d go on some sick trips. First class all the way all day every day. Europe. Grand Canyon. Hawaii. Safari. Cruise. One of those month long go everywhere tour packages at least once a year. With the kids! And a nanny! Sometimes we’d even invite friends and family on our dime. And we wouldn’t fanatically stay at Marriott chain hotels only so we can collect points for free nights. We’d just pick something perfectly perfect with price no object! Who even does that!?!

I’d also do some investing. I’d sink money into products I believe in. Groundbreaking humanitarian efforts like figuring out how to make the Nacho Bell Grande at Taco Bell calorie free and removing all the fat from McDonald’s french fries. While they’re at it, they could make vitamins that taste like fluffy cupcakes with butter cream icing. Lots and lots of icing. And how to grow spinach and broccoli that tastes like creamy fettuccini alfredo.

So, now all I need to do is figure out how to win the lottery without actually having to pay hard earned dollars for the tickets or having to enter a 7 Eleven.



Linking up with Holly and PG Sisters!