Well, by the time you read this, I’ll be a multi-millionaire. Or not.
Like workers at thousands of workplaces around the country, a few dozen teachers in my building pooled some cash and took a chance on the richest lottery in the history of the country. I’m a math teacher, so I typically don’t mess with gambling in general. I know the odds, and they are not ever in my favor. Plus, I suck at it.
But seriously, two bucks for a chance at $1.5 billion? So I’ll pass on the little bag of trail mix the next time we sneak away to Michigan. And based on the expected number of tickets sold, FiveThirtyEight pegs the chance of at least one winner at between 85% and 98%. Somebody’s gonna Lotto, might as well be me.
A psychologist at the Cleveland Clinic proposes that the two dollars, while almost certainly a losing bet, is actually healthy. That the process of dreaming about what you’d do with 37.5% the net worth of Donald Trump is good for you.
So yeah, there’s an empty beachfront lot facing Lake Michigan with my name on it right now. Mrs. Dull’s car could use an upgrade. My youngest will be picking out colleges in a few years. My oldest could use a backer in his dream of becoming a rapper/wrestling promoter. See? I feel better already.
But what about the “R” word?
“Mr. Dull, did you play the Powerball for tonight? If you win, would you retire?”
You know what? I couldn’t answer that right away. I’m… not sure. There are a lot of days I want to get in my car at 3:30, peel out, and never look back. My next stop would be next to some sand. But you know what else? I’m too young to retire. I don’t have a third act picked out. You can only watch so many carefree sunsets.
And I’d miss it.
Besides, that would be so punk rock, teaching when you don’t have to. Maybe especially when you don’t have to.
So when you see me pulling into the lot tomorrow in my 2010 Hyundai Accent with the wheelcover I busted hitting a pothole last winter, wave “hi”. And wish me luck.