Friday, June 2, 2017

Feed A Cold, Starve A Fever, Heed A Hunch

Alas, there have not been enough weirdos attracted to my magnet of late. I have run out of things to complain about. Lucky for all one of you readers, I still have my lottery addiction, though! No intervention for me! I couldn't take the cut in income.

Of course I have another $100 winner to share with you. I can't help myself. And it's never just a simple matter of driving to town, seeing a convenience store, and thinking, "Huh. I might as well stop in there and get a ticket." Oh, no. My scratch-off purchases are planned. I have a blueprint. It takes shape while I'm walking in the driveway in the evening. Or, if more pressing concerns occupy my mind, when I'm relaxing around midnight in my OPC (Old People Chair).

I consider the day's winnings, and what I can afford to play, and where my latest winners and losers have come from, and the likelihood of where in each store's current book of tickets a winner might be lurking. Let the record show that this lottery-playing hobby is a science, by cracky! And that I don't set out to win a giant jackpot, but to break even, so I can play again, and have another chance at a bigger prize.

This morning, I set out to get my tickets at Waterside Mart and the Casey's General Store where I get T-Hoe's gas. It's their turn in the rotation, and I was going right past them to mail the boys' weekly letters. I was planning to top off T-Hoe's half-full gas tank, and buy a Golden Ticket and one of the new $5 tickets.

However...as I was about to signal and enter the center turn lane to pull in for my gas...I saw the huge gasoline tanker truck waiting to pull out. Uh uh! No way! I was not getting gas NOW! That's a no-no. The gas in the tanks gets all stirred up. Particles float around, and you pump them into your T-Hoe's gas tank, and then before you know it, he's sputtering like a 5-pack-a-day smoker trying to scale Mt. Everest. It happened before, and my vehicle (pre-T-Hoe) was sidelined with a clogged fuel filter. So I avoid tank delivery days. Normally, Casey's gets theirs on Tuesdays, when their merchandise supply truck comes. But I guess that in preparing for the holiday weekend, the schedule was off for gasoline.

Anyhoo...I whizzed right on past Casey's, and got my planned ticket at Waterside Mart, and continued to the main post office branch for letter-mailing. I toyed with the idea of going across town to my other dependable Casey's, but that thought did not give me a hopeful feeling. It was like when you're looking for something, and people helping you say, "Nope. You're cold. Colder!" It wasn't happening.

So...I thought maybe I could just get my second ticket at the gas station chicken store when I stopped for my 44 oz Diet Coke. That didn't seem logical to me, either. I had just won $40 there yesterday, and was cashing in their ticket. I knew their roll would be advanced far enough for another win to be feasible. They sell a lot of tickets. But I just wasn't feeling it.

As I went back past the gas Casey's, I saw that my very special parking place over by the dumpster was open. That must be a sign, I figured. Just like the gas truck made me not stop there 20 minutes previous, now I was feeling like I should stop and not get gas, but get my ticket. That was the plan. So I stopped and got a Golden Ticket. This one:


I'm pretty glad I did. And the one from Waterside Mart won $30, so I got my money back on it.

4 comments:

fishducky said...

I never realized buying lottery tickets was a science, Ms. Einstein!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

fishducky,
Yes. Yes it is! Maybe I'll let you be the first one to read my Theory of One-Hundred-ivity.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

I would rather plot a garden ....

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
Well, that's something YOU have success with! Nobody wants Mrs. Hillbilly Mom diggin' around.