Billion, mind you, billion.
That’s what the jackpot is for tonight’s Powerball.
The cash payout is over $800 million.
I’ve got my tickets. And may buy a few more before the day is out.
I still can’t wrap my head around that amount.
It’s hard to imagine billions, or even millions, of dollars.
“What would be the first thing you would get?” I asked Lamar as we daydreamed about the possibility.
He wasn’t entirely sure.
He asked me what my first purchase would be.
I had to think, too.
We both agreed we’d give 10 percent as our tithe. That we knew.
But when it came to what we’d spend it on, we were stumped.
I knew what I wanted. It was huge.
“A new roof.”
He’s fixed it several times, only to have it leak in a new spot. No matter what he puts around the chimney, it leaks.
So we’d get a new roof.
“We’ll just buy some land and build a new house,” Lamar said.
“But here – I like our neighbors.”
“It doesn’t have to be a big fancy house, either,” I began. “I really don’t want something too big.”
I’m more of a log cabin gal than a McMansion one.
“With a basement,” Lamar added.
He’s been wanting a man cave and probably should have one so he can watch The Walking Dead, his sports stuff, and every cycling movie that comes on in peace, free of my heavy sighs and eye rolls.
“And,” I began, the dream growing in my heart. “Separate bathrooms!”
We had been sharing one bathroom for 10 years. After three months of that, I moved my makeup and hair stuff into my office so I wouldn’t be chased out halfway through my morning routine. My laptop normally has a protective layer of Lauder thanks to this.
But those billions of dollars – however much that may be – could mean a full grown human sized tub, maybe a garden tub even, that I could soak in. I could put candles around it and relax with a glass of wine.
I wouldn’t be disturbed by someone knocking on the door asking me when I was going to be done because, “This is urgent and can’t wait!”
Yes, maybe even an extra bathroom would come in nicely.
Neither of us wanted Ferraris or Lamborghinis.
Lamar said he wanted a Silverado; it didn’t even have to be new. I wanted a Toyota FJ Cruiser because that seemed the most practical to haul the girls around in, especially considering Doodle’s bladder control is linked to her emotions.
We surmised our lives would not change that much at all.
“We could really just go about our day doing the same stuff. We’d just be millionaires,” Lamar said. “No one would be able to know we were by the way we acted.”
I was reminded how years ago, I jokingly told a client I was going to win, but no one would know I had.
The man laughed and said, “We will know. You will come in and buy that Viking stove you cuddle every time you come in.”
OK, the new house would have a super-fabulous kitchen. I love to cook, so it would be a professional grade one. I may even splurge and get that Viking.
But really, our lives would be pretty much the same.
We talked about the good we could do with that kind of money. It would be nice to be able to help a lot of organizations.
“I can tell you what I wouldn’t do,” I said. “Anything I didn’t want to. My ‘have-to’s’ would change to my ‘want-to’s.'”
No longer would I do things that made me miserable and unhappy. I would graciously exit those situations and focus on what I wanted to do.
I knew the projects I would continue working with and how my time would be spent. That’s what those 1.3 billion pieces of paper meant to me – freedom to spend my time the way I wanted.
But other than having freedom, more than one bathroom, and a nice kitchen, my life wouldn’t change.
I was really excited about the extra bathrooms.
Somebody’s gotta win – maybe, just maybe, it will be me.