dolla dolla bills y'all

I want to begin by saying I voted for Obama, and if I had to do it over again, I would, if for no reason other than the Income Based Repayment program (http://www.ibrinfo.org/what.vp.html#eligible).  However, when it comes to other fiscal matters (ie. taxes), I often find myself agreeing more "conservative/right-wing/republican" individuals (note: I did not use the term "politicians.").

As such, I thoroughly enjoyed this article:
http://abovethelaw.com/2010/09/earning-250000-does-not-make-you-rich-not-in-my-town/

I laughed out loud at the line: "We're middle class.  That's what middle class people do: live as far above their means as possible until it becomes impossible. And then we play the lotto like everyone else."

This comment rang especially true for me.  A co-worker (another lawyer... with 9 years of experience and resentment more than I have) and I regularly leave the office to go downstairs to the 7-Eleven (yes, there's a 7-Eleven in our building... don't judge) and buy lottery tickets.  He always tell me it's the best five minutes of his week because for that time, he lets his mind run away with the possibility of never having to worry about money ever again.  When he first let me in on his secret getaways, I laughed and suggested he try yoga instead.  But now, a year into my "occupation" (see side bar), we go together.

I can't help but relate to Ben Affleck's character in Good Will Hunting:
Chuckie:  Every day I come by your house and I pick you up. And we go out. We have a few drinks, and a few laughs, and it's great. But you know what the best part of my day is? For about ten seconds, from when I pull up to the curb and when I get to your door, 'cause I think, maybe I'll get up there and I'll knock on the door and you won't be there. No goodbye. No see you later. No nothing. You just left. I don't know much, but I know that.

It turns out, my co-worker was right.  We take the elevator down to the 7-Eleven.  We quietly wait in line to buy our tickets.  We scan our issued tickets, taking note of the powerball number.  We let ourselves get carried away in the "what if's," and for those five exhilarating minutes, all is right with the world.