Two fingers to the Inevitable

I have some bad news.

I did something today that is a sure sign that I am getting older.

This is not good news.

I think Peter Pan had it pretty good, (not even counting the fact that he could fly, which is beyond enviable) never growing up sounds like a plan to me.
You think you will be able to grow older and retain your own sense of style and 'cool' (aargh, look, I'm even putting 'cool' in inverted comma's like I don't want people to think I would use it in a normal sentence, that wouldn't have happened 5 years ago) and most importantly, you think you won't end up like your parents, but you can't fight it, and it will happen.

Today I was thinking about my job, which I don't really like all that much and I would certainly rather be doing something more interesting and less stressful with a little over one third of my daily life, and I was wondering how I could get out of it, fast.
When I say fast, I don't just mean handing my resignation in, thereby generating 'the fear' which should spur me on to finding another, more interesting job while I serve my notice, (I have already proved that this does not work. January was a very lean month for me) I mean finding something that would enable me to quit, right now, and never go back.

My hot theory was to win the lottery, a tactic that could be called chancy at the very best, but then I thought maybe I could win something a little smaller, perhaps with some slightly better odds. I mean £3,000,000 would certainly see me off the 9-5 wagon for life, but even 10 or 20 grand might be enough for me to invest in something else I could do with my life, and allow me to quit my job right this second.

'Why not buy a few scratch cards' says my brain in a Jeremy Clarkson style inside my head (blame Kitchentable for that one) 'Or maybe play that deal or no deal online game you keep seeing advertised at the bottom of the MSN window, that thing looks like you are practically guaranteed to win tens of thousands of pounds'.

Now, here comes the bad bit, the indicator of impending oldness, the sign of the cardigans to come, the precursor to spending all day remembering when all this was fields, Here is what I did.

I ignored the voice.

I bloody ignored it, I thought to myself (in my own voice, not that of Jeremy Clarkson, he would have been straight down the casino, flipping chips onto the baize with reckless abandon) 'Nah, that's a stupid idea, I'll never win anything, and I can't afford to waste money on gambling'.

I'm so angry with myself, it starts with dismissing plainly idiotic ideas like trying to solve my financial problems by joining an online poker tournament, but who knows where it will end?

I might decide it is OK to think things like:

'No I can't possibly have a drink now, it's not even 10 a.m.'

or perhaps:

'this cartoon is rubbish, I wonder if the news is on'

or, no, it could never happen:

'yes, comfort is more important than performance when it comes to choosing a car'


Badly thought out actions are practically the essence of being young, I really don't want to lose that part of me.
Right, what's the address of that deal or no deal website...