RiteAid Doesn't Sell Lotto Tickets

I know, right? Who'da thunk?


Well apparently my husband did. Or still DOES. He swears that he's seen them there before. Maybe. Who knows. I checked and trust me, the closest form of gambling I could find was the child's Bingo game for 14.99. True Story.


Let me backtrack for a second.


Monday night was HORRIBLE. It started out great. We (meaning hubs and Isaac and I) took a walk, which ended up shorter than intended because a certain baby is teething and when he is miserable he will be damned if everyone around him is not miserable too. Another True Story. Anyway, we walked and chatted which was nice because we don't get to do alot as a family of three. Any time is precious time. Then we got Mexican take out. Our plan was to let me feed Isaac while Ben ate his burrito, then he would bathe little man while I ate my chicken taco salad. And everything went smoothly. Everything got ready for the next day and I was satisfied that I could go to sleep. Isaac went to sleep after his nightly dose of teething remedies, and I curled up on the couch to watch the SATC movie on HBO for the umpteenth time.

And then...I don't know. It just went south. I got hit with a wave of black. Seriously in that moment, I hated myself, my house, my life...and I just started crying. Nothing triggered it. I swear it was just a rapid fire mood swing that made me want to cut off my feet because I could see them and I thought they were ugly. I sank deeper and deeper into the couch, and finally dragged myself off to bed. And of course I was no longer tired. In the slightest.


My hubs and BIL were outside playing on the internet on their $600 Pa.lm P.re phones and laptops. And no joke, CHAIN SMOKING. I HATE THE SMELL AND FEEL AND EVERYTHING ABOUT SMOKING. And the screen door was open. My house was starting to smell like a cheap bar. Why my husband has increased this filthy disgusting and life shortening habit, I don't know. Trust me, I complain and hound him RELENTLESSLY. He hears about it everytime one of his filter-tipped little buddies visits. Yet, he refuses to stop. I know it is hard and all that hooey and hoopla. I won't get into that. The point is that the smoke was not helping my state.


I encouraged him to finish that cigarette and then come inside and watch TV. He didn't. Whatever. He's a grown man, husband, and father. Who acts like a 20 year old.

At this point I need to say that I schedule a massage for late Thursday morning, my day off and arranged for Isaac to go to daycare for a half day. I finally got my husband to agree to take Isaac for a half day today, to even out the time and money for daycare. I need my time. And it was not an easy job to convince a certain dad to do this because apparently "someone needs a day off to catch up on his sleep." I won't say anything more about that except that someone almost got his face clawed off.


So anyway, I managed to fall asleep. And then woke up about 45 minutes later, no because of the baby (who was still sleeping soundly) but because California decided that it was time to actually be summer and it should be HOT. And the house wasn't cooling down. I got up to turning on the fan and change my sweatsoaked pjs. It was then that I noticed the guest room light blazing away.


Turns out the $600 phone my husband just bought last week, less than 6 days ago actually, had "somehow been dropped on the patio and had a ginormous crack in the screen." This phone is Spr.int's version of the iP.hone. Meaning a cracked touch screen doesn't function. AT ALL. And dear hubs was digging for the receipt.


Sigh. Long story short, I finally put out all the fires from this what I can only assume was a drunken mishap and was able to crawl back into bed. And once I finally fell back asleep (because I was laying there stewing over the damn broken phone), I was shortly awakened to someone's "OH MY GOD THERE ARE SHARP POINTY WHITE THINGS TEARING THROUGH MY JAWBONE MOMMY WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU I WANT TO TEAR YOUR NIPPLE OFF BECAUSE IT MAKES ME FEEL BETTER" cries. After that was taken care of, my alarm went off.

I was beat all day, barely functioning. My husband took care of his phone and work stuff and then melted my heart with a text message that said he was picking Isaac up from daycare even though it was only 2 hours early. Because the time he gets to spend with him is precious.

And then I got another text message asking me to pick up a lotto ticket for the Mega Millions.

My husband is CONVINCED that we are going to win. And he is also convinced that the one time we don't actually purchase a ticket will be the time our numbers come up. And we will kick ourselves for years to come at our "lost millions."

I said no. Honestly, I don't want to waste the 5 dollars (Sidenote: it used to be $10 but now he has to play twice a week with the same lotto allowance). And I didn't want to stop on my way home. I didn't want to go into the little liqour store with cheap lighting and dirty magazines. Mostly, I already had to stop at RiteAid to get Isaac's flouride prescription and I didn't want to haul myself out of the car. I WAS TIRED. I just wanted to go home. After some banter, I said that I would only get one if RiteAid sold them. And he was sure they did.

God Bless you RiteAid. You may sell many of the deadly sins in your store, but gambling is not one of them.