I'm Lucky, But Not Too Lucky

When I was in Boise two weeks ago, I found seven dollars on the street. Yup, right out on the sidewalk, two ones and a five just laying there forlornly where they'd obviously fallen out of some dude's pocket. My host and I had just come from a restaurant and there was - literally - no one on the street to claim it.
   So I claimed it. Tucked that seven bucks in my back pocket and skedaddled because I had a plan. I was going to use my found money - which God, or Buddha, or Spongebob or somebody obviously wanted me to have - and play the Powerball lottery. Which we don't have in California. The jackpot was $232 million, and I saw myself with fancy yachts, big houses, fur-lined sinks, electric dog polishers, the whole magilla.
   Cut to the chase - I didn't win. Nothing. Not even a buck. The winning ticket was sold in South Dakota, and since I've never been to South Dakota I knew it wasn't me.
   So I'm lucky enough to find seven dollars, but not lucky enough to turn that seven dollars into $232 million. It's good when a man knows his limits.