Rich vs Poor

I've been rich and I've been poor and rich is better!

There are people in the world who really don't care about money but I am not one of them. While I wouldn't put money ahead of runs a very close second. This desire to be filthy rich stems from having been dirt poor for a lot of my adult life. Being a single mother for twelve years meant that I had to work two, three, four jobs. I cleaned houses. I took in ironing. I worked as a receptionist, a drama teacher. When I scored a job as a housekeeper at Kerry Packer's compound, I got a taste for the finer things in life. Wandering around the estate of the richest man in the country will do that to a girl. At night I went home to my cockroach infested unit in Bondi and dreamed of living in a waterfront mansion with some-one to clean up and cook for me. Now I have a lovely husband to do that for me! But still no waterfront mansion.

Tomorrow night I will be putting my lotto ticket in (100 million...yum). But I've got a sneaking feeling that I won't win. The odds are stacked against me. I actually would rather earn the money because then I'd feel I truly deserved it. I've been poor enough to steal toilet paper from the library loos. I've been rich enough to splash out on a facial and that's about it so far.

I wouldn't be a greedy bitch if I was filthy rich. I'd share. I'd support charities. I'd help out family and friends. But I would also buy an Aston Martin and a condo in my beloved New York. I'd probably botox that line out of my forehead. I'd definitely spend up at Tiffany and Co. A yacht would be nice.

It's nice to dream but in the meantime, I will need to look down the back of the sofa to find enough coins to put in that lotto ticket.  

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