A Gold Fervor Daydream

The wrong set of parents brought me home from the maternity ward. I know this because all evidence points to my being a leisure class baby. Take for instance my attitude about work. I've always had disdain for whatever my labors. It mattered not what the job, of which I've had many. I've regarded them all with the haughty air of one to the manor born. Then too there is the way in which I wallow in the empty hours with little to do. One would think upon regarding me in my down time that this was my true calling. And I would have to agree: With all apologies to Mr. Sartre, but I put the being into nothingness. I can also cat nap the fur off of any given siamese, Persian, or calico. Just give me an afternoon of labor free indulgence and I will curl up with a smile and a standard set of fantasies, all of them centered on lottery wins. And as surely as sleep will eventually over take me in these fallow hours I will in the mean time petition heavenward for the right combination of Mega Million numbers. And you may trust that I will do so with pious promises of magnanimous dispensing of my deity's delivered riches.

Be that as it may I wonder where my rightful mom and dad are. Perhaps they are out back on the veranda of the country manse imbibing mimosas or mint juleps. And what of that phantom aroma of a fine Cuban cigar now wafting this way. Is that my true father smoking in contemplation, wondering why his namesake is such a dolt? If only he knew that I was his rightful heir. How proud I would make him with repartee, bon mots, and philosophical conversations imbued with esoteric footnotes.

But no. Such is not to be. The curse it is cast. I am the son of a blue collar couple who is fated to work until my final years of AARP

For the last ten months however I have been gainfully unemployed. I have borne these unimpeded hours with a measure of sloth. An afternoon has not passed with out a nap, each one a horizontal reward for a morning's labor of surfing the net. For the job of the unemployed is looking for work. Thus Monday through Friday in the AM hours I sit at this keyboard crafting cover letters for jobs I don't truly want. In this matter you might say I am a pragmatic liar.

But what if I didn't have to lie? (insert angelic chorus) What if the world were as I daydream it? Wouldn't that be grand - for me anyways. Yes. I would make my way in this world with a benevolent Midas touch doling out riches rather than turning others into gold. How great that would be. I see it all clearly. It is truly meant to thusly unfold.

Pardon me then if you will. Mine is a mission blessed by God Himself. Hark unto me I say. And behold this righteous servant doling out the dollars gained through lottery win. Thank me if you will. It matters not. I dispense the green not for adoration. No. I do so out of a loftier mindset. Let then the trumpets that rendered the walls of Jericho into rubble blow their clarion call: As it was said, all is right with those of my ilk for I am come bearing bills of grand denominations. Have a few my friend. There are plenty more where they came from.