One of my brain-draining exercises is playing the Vegas-style solitaire that accompanies the crappy PCs to which I am enslaved. I am not particularly good, usually winding up winning about 8-10 percent of the time, and winning about as much money as I lose on average.
Yet the other day I hit this...zone. Truth be told, I was bummed out and just going into a lengthy bout of gastroenteritis, and my head was hardly even in the game. All of a sudden, I went on this weird winning streak, something like 6 straight games and 9 of 12, and the cards were just flying. At the time of the strange streak, I was down about $500 dollars, and within 25 minutes or so, this parlayed into winnings of $1348.
Of course, I still have yet to figure out where the chip slot is on my laptop to actually collect that cash, but this is beside the point. There are inexplicable moments in life where everything seems to click, and even disinterested gamblers wind up winning, cashing in on sports gifts and raking in the dollars.
I just finished re-reading Jack Kerouac's On The Road, and I was momentarily influenced by the scene in which Sal and Old Bull Lee neglect to follow a hunch that would have paid off 50:1. I toyed with the idea that forces in another dimension were trying to get me to play the lottery by alerting me via Vegas Solitaire that this was my lucky day.
However, I dismissed the notion as goofy, and now I will never know if that $5 I was tempted to play in scratch-off tickets would have paid off. Of course, I still have the $5, which these days is still quite useful, but perhaps this is one of those "what if" moments I should have pursued.
That being said, I always get so ticked at myself when the urge strikes me every six months or so to blow a dollar on the lottery, so maybe I am better off not knowing.