I do not want to go back.
I have bought a lottery ticket and a scratch ticket, which won me another ticket which I have subsequently scratched.
I did not win anything on that second scratch ticket.
I am doubtful about the lottery ticket too as some people in this area just won $20 million.
Lightning won't strike the same place twice will it?
I need to come up with a plan.
I only have a few days left.
When I left the grocery store this morning I walked with eyes downcast in case somebody had lost a winning lottery ticket
or a bag of jewels,
or in case a large bag of $100 bills had fallen off the back of a wagon.
A security wagon en route to the bank that is.
Naturally I would turn any one of 'em in and claim the reward.
It's the Catholic schoolgirl in me which refuses to let me commit the sin of stealing.
(commandment number 8 I believe)
Speaking of not breaking commandments I also have not carved any graven images (commandment #2).
And where has that got me?
I still have to go back to work.
I could try refusal.
I could just tell my other half that I am NOT going to go and he can't make me!
I should just cling to the door frame and refuse to budge.
I tried that on my first day of school in the infants.
Mrs. C was most insistent that my mother pry herself out of my vice-like grip and release me to HER.
She would 'take care of me'.
So my mother eventually untangled herself from me and the old trout began to drag me, kicking and screaming into her
Mrs. C picked me up.
I clocked her one right across the face and sent her glasses flying.
She dropped me like a hot potato.
I flew to the door.
Margie Raffle, another 5 year old child, beat me to it and barring my exit, fixed me with a meaningful glare.
It said, 'Don't even think about it!'
She was a lot tougher than me.
It was her first day too but I had the feeling that she was no stranger to being left to fend for herself.
Margie had plainly been raised by wolves.
Her mother was the neighbourhood 'Parky' on our council estate.
(If you could call two swings, a rusty roundabout and a sandbox full of broken glass, a park.)
The 'Parky' could put her lippy on without taking the fag out of her mouth.
Margie was letting the teacher know she had her back.
There was no way I was getting past HER!
The teacher gave Margie a look of respect.
She reserved a withering sneer for me.
Defeated and sobbing I slunk off to a corner to lick my wounds and wipe my snot on my sleeve.
My mother was walking down the street and I saw her from the window.
I put my hand on the glass and SCREAMED.
She didn't hear me.
I've never gotten over it really.
I wonder if it would work this time?
I think I could take Margie Raffle now.