The mornings are dark and crisp.
Autumn is my favourite season. Well, I love winter, too. I suppose autumn serves as a signpost for me: of cooler air, dark evenings, biting winds, wood fires, coats, scarves, tights and boots.
This morning I woke, snuggled under the doona, in a haze. Confused. My sleep so deep and sound I had no clue what day it is. As I turned over, my mind cleared. Wednesday. As I still have no job, I have nowhere to rush to. No exercise class planned for this morning. I kept my eyes shut and tried to drown out the sound of T1 and T2 watching telly, at least for a few minutes.
When I stumbled out into the living area, Hubster informed me that one lucky person won $70 million in the lottery last night. The hazy state of my brain cleared—unfortunately and honestly—into straight up jealousy. (Disclaimer: I’d forgotten to purchase a ticket, so it’s not as if I had a real chance at winning!) What I would do with that amount of money! How much of life would change, and how much would stay the same?
I’d buy a home. Four bedrooms, a guest room/study, a backyard with a pool. I’d go on a big holiday, like to Europe or the US, or maybe somewhere closer, like Vanuatu or similar. I’d help friends and family who may be struggling financially. That’s how life would change. The rest I reckon would stay the same. I’d still keep looking for a job, just be less stressed and frustrated by not being the chosen candidate.
My reverie of life changing by a grand sum of money was snapped into reality, as my three kidlets fought in our small kitchen, each wanting to be the first to the toaster or the tub of yoghurt. I rolled my eyes before intervening.
It’s life. It’s my life. And I love it.