Filty rich and lovin' it

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By Carolyn Ten Broeck, Editor

By the time you read this, I will not be a millionaire. I did not win the Powerball–again.
But then again, I never bought a ticket. This time or ever.
I know. I know. You can’t win if you don’t play. It never occurs to me to buy a ticket–not even when the jackpot is half a billion dollars.
What does occur to me is how I would spend that money. I daydream about it. Often.
A few minutes ago while I was on break, I drifted off into that place where life is idyllic, I’m a size 10 and I am the Powerball winner.
I won’t kid you. Unlike so many lottery winners (or wannabe winners), I would not continue to work.
Quicker than you could say, “Stop the presses!”, I would be out the door but I would offer my services to the new editor as a sometime-feature writer.
Everyone always says how they would donate to charity, whether it’s a nationally organized group, their church or the local humane society.
Of course, I, too would do some of that.
Let’s just say that taxes would eat up half the winnings. That still would leave something like $200 million.
After the obligatory donations, I’d still have a chunk of money–more than enough to live on even after investing a solid portion and giving my children a stipend. And I  am sure all the poor friends and relatives would suddenly see a need to visit Florida, although most haven’t to this point. Alas.....
Would I get a new house? Maybe. But not here. I love my Williston house and see no need to upgrade since it suits my needs quite nicely.
I would, however, add a screened-in back porch, an inground pool and convert the garage (that has never had a car parked in it) into a nice “bonus” room.
My second home would be somewhere in the Caribbean and I would definitely buy the Italian villa I’ve lusted for ever since I saw “Under the Tuscan Sun.”
Of course there would be some traveling and when the wanderlust ebbs, I’d return to one of my three homes where I would tackle a legion of projects I’ve set aside for a snowy day or retirement–whichever comes first.
I think I have about three years of projects stockpiled and I’d be diligent with them, as I sandwich them in between my assignments from my new editor.
By this time, I don’t need the money, so I would work gratis to ensure both the profitability and longevity of the Williston Pioneer for the next 133 years. Plus, being out and about  would ensure and enhance my connection to the community.
I’ve always been a bargain hunter–no matter if I was financially solvent or dirt poor.
I imagine that aspect of my life would not change–except now I could buy more bargains and I wouldn’t have to wait until chicken went on sale.
I wouldn’t hire a chef, but I would have a once-a-week housekeeper and landscaper. Just once a week. I covet my privacy and don’t want anyone underfoot.
I love my car and the fact it gets 40 mpg on the highway, so I might upgrade to a newer one–maybe.
I’d also establish scholarships for students going into print journalism because as the old “Saturday Night Live” schtick went (sort of), “Newspapers have been very, very good to me.”
And just as I am getting to the part where I find myself teetering on the brink of the lifestyles of the rich and famous, I am snapped back to reality and summoned inside to take a phone call, insert a classified, fax some papers and lay out the front page.
Daydreams, Floriano Martins said,  are the measure of our unreachable truth.
My reverie is over. I am not filthy rich. I don’t own multiple homes. I am not a philanthropist. But the worst part?
I’m not a size 10.
Carolyn Ten Broeck, happy and content with what she has, is editor of the Williston Pioneer. Reach her at editor@willistonpioneer.com.