Last week, I saw that the Euro Millions Lottery had a jackpot of £85 million. This amount of money is beyond my comprehension, but it sounded like fun and I was tempted to buy a ticket. I didn’t.
This week, the jackpot rolled over again and is now up to £100 million pounds. This time, I thought a ticket might be worthwhile.
So, I bought my ticket, chose my numbers and now sit and wait for the draw. I absolutely detest playing the lottery, or competitions of any kind. The practical person inside of me is saying “Don’t be silly, you’re never going to win, look at the odds. And you’re the unluckiest person in the world so don’t even think about it.” But there’s always a tiny voice, deep down in my toes that pipes up “Someone’s got to win it, why couldn’t it be me?”
And I hate that, the feeling of hope for something that’s never actually going to happen. I don’t know why I put myself through it, I really don’t. (The chance of being a millionaire, that’s why!)