The Powerball

indexI’m the go-to mechanical person in this household – if an appliance doesn’t work, I get the call. I’m the one to figure out if it’s just a tripped circuit or the wrong button pushed or a leaky valve or, more often, if a qualified repairman should be called.

I’m also the go-to technical person among my friends – if their task bar has disappeared, or if they want a picture of their husband to pop up when he calls, or if they want to produce some holiday cards, I get the call.

But yesterday Chip forgot to buy a Powerball ticket in the city, at his lucky place where he, and no one else, has ever won. Now I don’t follow the Powerball. I’m not even sure if it’s national or just a few states or a lot of states. I do sort of follow how big it is, through Chip, because he has an odd way of determining when to play. If it’s too small he’s not interested, if it’s too big it alarms him – what would he do with all that money? If it’s medium size, which apparently it is now (how much? what is medium size? I have no idea), he’s right in there.

Except that he forgot, and for some reason, when we have to buy a ticket in the suburbs, I have to buy it. So he dropped me off at a local Wawa (like a 7-11, except I’m not sure they exist anymore, but you get the idea. There were some Indians in Pennsylvania who called geese “wawa” and somehow, even though geese came and went with the seasons back then before global warming, a store that’s open all the time got to be called Wawa here).  I went in and handed the cashier my lucky two dollars (hoping he’d automatically know what I wanted so I wouldn’t have to admit it out loud), but he directed me instead to an intimidatingly large machine that looks like that picture up there.

No way can I figure out that machine. And Chip won’t go back in, so we drive all the way over to another town, where’s there’s a different open-all-the-time store called Pantry Pride, which has no connotation whatsoever. This store has a big sign on the outside congratulating someone who bought a ticket there in 2012 and won millions, and I don’t imagine winning numbers, like lightning, strike twice in the same place, but this store has a very friendly cashier in place of a machine and so it’s done.

Check back tomorrow. If this blog has disappeared again you’ll know I’m off in my private jet somewhere.

This entry was posted in Little things, My so-called-life, Technology and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The Powerball

  1. Too funny! your private jet!

    I know I go to you in these situations 🙂

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