13/1/00
Should
I have bought a lottery
ticket?
It looked like
it was going to be one
of those days. But it
turned out quite the
opposite.
I woke
up feeling like I just
wanted to play computer
Solitaire until bedtime,
but I had to be in court
in the afternoon, and
that evening I had to
organize a complicated
millennial contest at
the Scrabble club. Both
events were taxing enough,
but then I noticed that
very same day was the
deadline for paying
the Arnona tax, if I
was to take advantage
of the discount.
I started out
in a miserable mood,
like one does when going
to the dentist for root
canal (which I had two
days before).
I had to
pay Arnona at the municipality,
because I qualify for
an additional discount.
At the best of times,
this is not one of my
favorite places. And
this was the worst of
times: when I got there,
the mood was combatant
and surly. There was
yelling and shouting,
and a woman was stomping
out in tears. I had
to join a long queue
just to get a number.
I got #318. They were
at #155.
Fortunately,
I had brought the newspaper
to read while I waited.
Unfortunately, after
10 minutes, I had finished
reading the newspaper,
and they were still
only at #157.
Feeling very
sorry for myself, I
left the mayhem. With
three hours to kill
before the court appearance,
I wandered about. It
was a beautiful, rainless
day (unfortunately).
I stopped at
a kiosk for a nosh,
and the fellow asked
if I had bought my lottery
ticket yet.
Waste of money,
I growled.
Maybe you'll
get lucky, he responded
brightly.
And get lucky
I did. I didn't win
the 50 million, but
the way the day progressed,
well, it sort of added
up.
At small-claims
court, I faced not just
the shameless liar who
struck my car back in
April (and claimed that
I had hit him),
but his golden-tongued
lawyer as well. Their
lies piled up and contradicted
each other, and the
wise judge pointed out
that if she was to believe
their testimony, then
my car must have traveled
sideways for my door
to hit his grille. The
assembly in the courtroom
laughed derisively at
the other guy, the judge
glared at him, and I
walked out NIS 2,600
richer.
With three hours
left before the club
session, I figured I
might as well wait it
out at the gehenom in
the municipality --
which happens to be
next door to the court.
I still had my #318.
I looked up at
the display. It read
"317." Disbelieving,
I blinked -- and it
changed to 318! I waited
not five seconds.
Not only did
I get the two discounts,
the clerk discovered
that I was owed a major
rebate from last year.
With still time
to kill, and a new bounce
in my step, I stopped
in at the Sefer Vesefel
bookshop. For months,
I had been searching
in vain for two books,
and acquiring them had
become an obsession.
They had both.
Giddy from my
string of good fortune,
I joked that I'd happily
pay double. He charged
me half.
I had to share
my good vibes, so I
visited a friend at
her office. I told her
of my incredible day,
and she suggested I
ride my luck and buy
a lottery ticket.
"Waste of
money," I said.
She had just
finished work, so we
went to a favorite restaurant
owned by a mutual acquaintance,
Eucalyptus, which happens
to be in the municipality
courtyard. Never mind
the prices, I said,
let's celebrate!
We finished
dinner and I pulled
out my wallet. The owner
smiled. It's on the
house, he said.
I was shattered
by the time I got to
the Scrabble club that
night, and having to
run a program of seven
word contests for a
packed house, I would
have preferred not to
play. But there was
an even number of players,
so I had to. The magic
continued. I had my
best results in seven
years.
Back home, I
could only shake my
head in wonderment.
Then I got greedy: damn,
I thought, I should
have bought a lottery
ticket. On a day like
this ...
But luck has
its own logic. On a
day like this, when
I could do no wrong,
surely I would have
bought the ticket worth
50 million. However,
the fact that I didn't
buy a ticket could only
mean that I couldn't
have won.
It's hard to
rationalize. I might
have played Solitaire
all day, won every game,
and thanked my lucky
stars I stayed home.