Have you ever purchased a lottery ticket and then not matched it up to the winning numbers until a day or two after the drawing — for the express purpose of prolonging the dream of what you’ll do with the money should you win?
I do it every time I plunk down a buck for a Super Lotto bet. The lottery ticket that my husband, a flesh-and-blood Willy Wonka if you’ve ever met one, always calls our “Golden Ticket” is slipped into an envelope and kept there until well after the winning numbers are drawn.
In order to learn whether or not we’re the big winners, Gil has to gently shake me out of my reverie, which usually takes me to exotic places such as the nearest kitchen designer’s showroom. Only after Gil has nudged me will I pull out the ticket, very slowly, and check the numbers over and over again until I’m certain the so-far elusive big prize has been deferred to another day.