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My husband enjoys buying me scratch tickets whenever there is a special occasion or just when he wants to spoil me. He knows how much I love sitting there, scratching away with a penny (some stupid superstition I concocted on my own, the idea is by keeping it humble with a penny, the universe may see fit to send some winnings my way) patiently waiting for my lucky numbers to match up with scratch tickets numbers and BAM prize for me.

Intellectually I know full well that an easy winning like that is not in the cards for me, but still there is something about the hope of scratching a potential winning covered prize area that is addictively alluring, you can’t help but think “it could be this one” and when it isn’t, you go on to the next, hoping “it could be this one” until you get to the end and there isn’t another one. You then move on to the next one until there isn’t a next one. I can see how so many spend their precious dollars hoping for the pot of gold at the end of the scratch ticket rainbow.

I keep my little scratch ticket love affair to special occasions and what makes it special is that my husband buys them for me, it’s better than flowers.