...and how, once I DO hit the Mother Lode (and I will), it will take some getting used to.
Think about it...
One day, for instance, little Elvis is walking hand in hand down the streets of Tupelo with Grace, going to get an ice cream with a very short supply of extra cash and twenty years later this same Elvis is winging his way in the middle of the night on a private Lear jet from Graceland to Denver with a plane load of buddies, all because Elvis liked the way a certain joint in Denver made its peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, for which he had a sudden hankerin'...it turns out the PB & J, taking all expenses for the flight into consideration, cost about 1500 bucks.
I'll try to exercise a little control, maybe have them send me one UPS or Fed Ex me a Omaha steak or something...
Trouble is I'm going to be sitting here with all this cash and nothing to do. Other than to upgrade this beat weed I got I don't know what I'd do first if suddenly there stood in the doorway the Benevolent Sponsor I've awaited so eagerly for the last half-century (oddly enough my addled head over the years has convinced itself that this wraithlike creature with a philanthropic interest in me - and a bankroll to back it up, WILL show up one day...)
It's why I don't have a job! Why bother, knowing as I do that any day now, any day now, there (s)he is, portfolio in one hand, blank check with my name on it in the other?!
Meanwhile I've been doing my share of peanut butter and jelly myself Elvis.
Incidentally, how come Elvis' picture is on a stamp? I thought you had to be dead to rate a stamp?
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