I think the most dangerous half-hour of the day is the time between realizing "I am tired" and actually going to sleep. That's the half-hour or so when I lay in bed with my mind running wild and exhausted, thinking of everything and nothing and sometimes it's great....and other times it becomes less so.
Last night in bed, I was thinking of the Mega Millions and how great it would be to win. (Disclaimer: I am not stupid. I know the odds. I am not going to win. But I like to imagine I might.) I've talked about this before. I think the people who say "money can't buy happiness" have never defaulted on a payment before, or had to sell off some of their things to cover bills. Maybe it's not "happiness" but it's a sense of security that was distinctly lacking before, if that makes sense. The current Mega Millions jackpot is listed as $105 million, which if you took the lump sum after taxes, would probably be more in the ballpark of $40 million. Still a fuckload of money! If I won it, I'd do the logical thing....budget! You all know how important I think budgeting your money is. Here's how I'd break it down...
$5 million ($1 million each) to charities benefitting:
American Cancer Society
Alzheimer's Association
National MS Society
ASPCA
Wounded Warriors
Yup. That pretty much covers the big five closest to my heart. Veterans. Cancer. Alzheimers. Multiple Sclerosis. Animals. I'm sure I'll find some more worthy causes to donate to, but those are the first to come to mind.
REAL ESTATE. $10 million for a place for Brother and me to live in LA...I'd prefer Santa Monica, something near or on the beach. Also a nice flat in London and a small place in NYC.
Next, $5 million to put my godsons through school. (Please God it won't cost the entire amount at that point). I'd also love to help other friends get their kids through college. How great would that be? School is EXPENSIVE. But good school is worth it.
I was feeling so awesome! All my pretend money is being well used! Then I started thinking about my parents...and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out a living situation where my folks could be together. I racked my brain, wondering how my dad could get the care he needs - meds, check up, blood draws...and my mom could still have some semblance of a regular life. And I realize we'd tried to make that work for years in our regular house, and there was nothing money could buy that would change the fact that Dad needs to be in full-time assisted living. This is when I went to the sad place, because even though the facility where my Dad lives is fantastic, I become inconsolabe whenever I think of him there, especially at night. Is he sad, I wonder? I hope not. Is he lonely? Does he miss me as much as I miss him? (Aw, fuck, I'm crying at my desk, hang on a sec..) And then, just like now, I start to cry. I'd call him, but hopefully he's alseep already, and I also know that I'd have to say "Hello Dad, it's me" and identify myself or he won't be sure who this female voice is calling at such an odd hour. So last night, after all my big happy Mega Millions dreams, I hit this major snare and starting crying because I hoped my Dad isn't sad and lonely in the assisted living facility. I was crying so much I crawled out of bed and got my stuffed dog, Speedy (I brought Speedy to NYC because I was like "I CAN have a dog if I want to, screw you landlord!") off a shelf and brought him back to bed and buried my face in his dusty old furs. It is a weird and wonderful thing that an old stuffed dog can still calm a 30 year old heart.
Apparently, Speedy is still available on EBay. Good to know.
So that happened. It does from time to time. That's just life now. You know? Sometimes you think sad things and you fucking cry. And eventually, you will stop.
