There ARE Some People I Hate

Well....not really. But I would like to. For example, take this lady in Scotland. She's had this painting lounging around her house for decades. Hasn't ever shown any interest in it other than it was a gift from her father. He was probably doing his summer cleaning way back when and just wanted to get rid of the thing.

So one day, she takes it to have it appraised. Why? The article doesn't say. She just does, on a whim. The art expert nearly drops dead from a heart attack. On the back of this painting is a Papal Bull from some pope from the 17th century. They also believe the painting is an original Da Vinci. That's right. Leonardo Da Vinci. If not his, they believe it was from a student that was trained by Da Vinci, which makes the painting immensely valuable in its own right. If it is an original Da Vinci, the woman can walk away with a cool $150,000,000.00 dollars.

How would you like to know that you've been scrimping to get by all your life, working from dawn to dusk, from can to can't, and all along you have a lotto ticket hanging on your wall? You have a golden pass to a life of luxury and you walk by it every day wondering if you should just throw the damn thing out. Amazing.

When my mom died we found that she had saved one of my old, school lunch boxes. It was a Jetsons' lunch box. On a whim, I looked it up on the internet to find that it is one of the most sought after boxes by collectors. Up until then, I didn't even know there WERE lunchbox colletors. For some reason, it was missing its thermos, which brought the value down. But, it is still in good shape, and I could probably get about $800 for it. A far cry from 150 million.

I read about people buying old homes and finding hundreds of thousands of dollars stashed in the walls. I read one time where somebody bought this old old house and found a million dollars in Confederate currency. It was worth thousands to collectors. I also read about people who walk up on sacks and out of simple curiosity look inside to find 25 grand or 50 grand. I hate people like that. The most money I've ever walked up on was forty dollars. A black lady saw it at the same time I did, but I grabbed it first. Being the gentleman, I gave her twenty. It was a win win. Still, it ain't 150 million dollars.

It would serve me just fine to not hear stories like this. All they do is make me sad. Why can't it be me? Why can't I win the lotto or find a stash, have a lunchbox that's worth 150 million dollars. What's wrong with me??? Why can't it be me???? So, I sulk back to my house and go to the darkest corner and seethe with bitterness, hoping these people choke on every penny. I hope it is a slow, painful, merciless choking that lasts and lasts and lasts. Then, I get over it and start watching TV. Usually the Forensic Files, Snapped; Women Who Kill; Behind Mansion Walls, or some other murder show. These make me realize that I don't have it so bad and I start feeling good for the old woman who found a 150 million dollar painting that was never her. Yet, when I get up in the morning to the sound of the screeching alarm clock, fight the traffic to sit down in a little cubicle, and go about my mundane job because I have to keep working...I start hating her all over again. The bitch.