I don't want to upset any of you, but after Wednesday, you'll probably never hear from me again.
Don't worry, I won't be jumping off a bridge, or checking into a mental institution, although I have thought of doing both in the past month. No, you won't be hearing from me because I will simply be too rich to blog any more. That's right, I'm winning the lottery.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Libby, Utah doesn't have a lottery." Well, duh. We also don't have anywhere you can buy cold white wine on a Sunday. This weekend though, I went to a wonderful place where anything is possible: Idaho. And that's where I bought a shit load of cold wine, and solidified my future with the pick of just six little numbers.
Some of you might be chuckling, saying "oh, that Libby," thinking I'm just being "whimsical," and "funny." No. I am dead serious. I am planning on winning the lottery on Wednesday. Every time I pass that ticket hanging on the fridge I count down the hours until our lives totally change. Until we can pay off our student loans. Until we can hire a good contractor to fix the swamp in our backyard. Until we will never have to worry about sending Meg to college. Until I can hire Jillian Michaels to be my friend, and then fire her because she embarrasses me in public.
I would love to keep blogging after I win, really I would, but I think things would just be weird between us then. Not because of the money, I know none of you care if I am rich or poor; but because I plan to get snooty. I mean, really, really snooty. I plan to decant my box wine before I drink it -- that's how snooty I'll be. And I doubt any of you will really want to read about that and how my butler left schmutz all over my sock garters.
I will miss all of you though, after I've won the lottery on Wednesday.
Yeah. See you Thursday.