If I Had a Billion Dollars (and change)

Talk about lazy.

I couldn't bear the thought of braving the cold last night just one more time to pick up a Power Ball ticket. Small consolation that the big winning tickets were sold in faraway states. Had I bundled up just one more time to make the three minute trek in a heated car to a gas station convenience store, the minor blip in my behavior would have altered everything in the Power Ball universe and I could have been sitting on a big fat check. At least I saved a few bucks and a whole bunch of calories when I resisted the enticement of a swing through the drive thru on the way home for an oreo McFlurry.

The sudden heat wave this morning -- twenty-nine degrees, after days of temperatures struggling to hover above zero -- boosted my mood, which made me wonder what kind of effect over a billion dollars might have had. As much as I like to tell myself money can't buy happiness, I'd be willing to test out the theory. Even a small victory at work the other day, a victory that didn't earn me a dime, except, I suppose, as a notch on the bedpost of keeping my job, lifted my spirits as I braced myself against the icy wind in the parking lot. I'm thinking euphoria might have set in if I won a cool billion and could suddenly afford that Canada Goose jacket and matching hat.

When I woke this morning, tangled up in the sheets with my dog, I gazed at the evidence of our January stir craziness. The coarse white fluffy innards of his latest favorite toy made my comforter look like a vandalized holiday window scene. Random electronics dotted the scene -- my chewed up remote, with its exposed batteries precariously half-nestled in their slots, barely functioning and no longer appealing to Eli. My lap top, tell tale cookie crumbs stuck in the keyboard. My iPhone, out of juice, no doubt, as it tends to be since an unfortunate plunge into the toilet. I tiptoed through the shredded remnants of a half-used roll of toilet paper I had neglected to secure on that little toilet paper bar (what's that called, anyway?), wondering how much more Midwestern winter I could take.

It could be worse. At least I get to pee indoors. I wonder if Eli was trying to tell me something when he went at the toilet paper.

So what difference would a billion dollars make? A few vacation homes? Assured safety from a terrorist attack when I pop into a Starbucks for a coffee? Freedom from occasional funks? Guaranteed feelings of accomplishment and a job well done on a daily basis? Freedom from worry about my children? At the very least, the Canada Goose jacket and the matching hat.

I know it sounds naive, but there's something to be said for simple pleasures. Why else would I be contemplating forking over $39 for access to some introductory videos on a new website that unlocks the secret to female orgasms. Talk about lazy, like I said. But the videos are interactive and touchable, from what I hear. Do they touch back? Thirty-nine dollars -- that's a lot cheaper than a big ass diamond, so what the heck.

At the very least, it could tide me over until the jackpot swells again.