I was driving The Big Daddy to an airport shuttle at 4:30 a.m……….why does he keep leaving me……….and we got on the subject of gambling. I know plenty of people who do it and like it, but I have never been inside a casino let alone dropped quarters into a slot machine. Not once.
It is not because I’m tight-fisted and don’t want to part with money, but because I am afraid I would be one of those people who got instantly hooked. Intoxicated by the next big “win” and before you know it the savings account is gone, the checking account is gone, the car’s been repossessed, the house is in foreclosure, and we’re sitting on the stage of the Dr. Phil show.
I would be crying. The Big Daddy would be saying he loved me, I complete him, something about wind and wings and together, baby, we’ll make this right. Dr. Phil would give me a righteous stink-eye.
That’s the t.v. version.
The real version would be him tossing me out on my risky ass for losing everything we earned. So instead, I end up at Target. With milk on sale at forty cents less than the grocery store, times two gallons, why, that’s an eighty cent savings……………and $76.00 later I’m thinking I should kick my own ass and head to the boats.
