Deserting dessert

With the number of multi-million dollar jackpots going off at the moment, I'm convinced that the universe is trying to make me rich. Why else would they keep having $106 million or $80 million draws? 

The Skip and I sit around and dream about what we're going to purchase with our new found wealth; should we keep flying commercial to the exotic locales we'll visit or would it be easier to hire a private jet; do we buy our family members houses or just give them some cash to find their own - you know all those difficult decisions you'd have if you woke one morning to discover you had tens of millions of dollars.

Of course, the people who always win are always very deserving - they've just lost their job or had to sell all they owned to fund Aunt Edna's bone marrow transplant - and I do realise that I'm probably not the most deserving person to win the lottery. Though after traipsing up to the local news agency to buy a ticket, I really do feel like I've earned at least a few million dollars. The kids are usually crying and climbing out of the pram and telling them I'll buy them a whole playground when I win doesn't help to calm them down as we're waiting in line for a ticket.

So, last Thursday afternoon as I was pushing the kids in the trolley through the car park after a particularly horrendous shopping expedition I suddenly remembered two things - I promised King Sting that I would buy a Powerball ticket for the $80 million jackpot draw and that I would pick up something for dessert. As I shook the loose change from my pocket I realised I only had enough one of these. The thought of going to get more money out with girls tearing each other a part was just too much. With little hesitation I headed back into the shops and set off in the direction of the news agent - after all, think of how many cakes I could buy with $80 million? Hell, I could buy my own French pastry chef and move him into the shed! I kept these thoughts up as I cued with the rest of Sydney to buy a ticket and wrestled the kids while everyone around sighed and rolled their eyes at me and my heavily-ladened trolley.

Later that evening when King Sting heard about the outcome of my decision his automatic reply was: "Well, at least with dessert you know you've already won." As I looked at my losing ticket that night, I had to agree with him.

This made me think about what really would give you more happiness - lots and lots of dough or a rich Mr Whippy? And maybe this is what Marie Antoinette really meant when she uttered those words: "Let them eat cake!" Perhaps she knew that there was more fun to be had with a wicked dessert than healthy bank balance.

Either way, I know that next time the baker will be getting my $7 over Mr Oz Lotto.