I've often wondered why I'm so unlucky. It sometimes seems that if there are 32 prizes and 33 people, I would be the one leaving empty handed most of the time. Through the years I've tried to deal with my Noluckitis as well as I possibly could. And at 29 years of age, I believe I've been able to cope with it pretty well.
But now, after last weekend and a trip to Tunica, it hit me like a bolt out of the blue. After putting coins in many slot machines and on roulette tables galore, I suddenly realized that if I were lucky at all and the aforementioned gambling devices actually paid off occasionally, I could very well be a gambling addict. Maybe I had been looking at this all wrong! So, for the rest of the weekend I was able to smile a little at each slot machine that slowly ate my money. Able to chuckle as the roulette attendant called "Double 0" when all my money rested on 17. Never a gambling addict, I! For that, I would actually need to believe I would win at SOMETHING!
Luck is a fickle mistress and moved from my house on January 8, 1996 (the day Cassie was Born) and she hasn't been back since. She doesn't even send an occasional postcard. Well, maybe she does, but with my luck, it gets lost in the mail.
Melissa "Lucky" Duncan
1 comment:
It's not entirely true that you don't get any postcards. There have been the ocassional notes of consolation, the chance meetings with actors who portray people much shorter than they actually are. Once there was a really nice run of free movie tickets...
Of course I can't think of anything RECENTLY...
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