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Winner winner chicken dinner

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This morning I rolled a double six at Deluxe.

Deluxe is one of my favourite places in Wellington to get coffee, and I go there maybe four days a week. Every time they offer me the dice, I’m like, “does anyone ever actually roll a double six?” and the barista is all, “lol, it’s just fun to watch hope die”.

I’d previously been convinced, despite the insistence of mathematics and the laws of probability, that getting a free coffee from them was on a level with riding to work on a unicorn or battling Voldemort. I was as likely to roll a double six as to win lotto, or have a day where my hair stays where I put it.

I’ve never been lucky. I don’t win things. (I don’t enter things either, but that’s an efficiency saving brought on by the lack of winning.) I once won a skipping rope and a drink bottle with a frog on it in a colouring competition, and when I was 11 I was picked from the crowd at Sea World to go out in the boat at the dolphin show. I couldn’t see over the edge of the boat and I was too scared to say so, so I actually saw even less of the dolphins than I would’ve had I been sitting with my parents and brother in the stands. Also, I was wearing white denim shorty overalls with high-top sneakers, so it just wasn’t a good day for me.

Last week I won $2,000 worth of premium house paint. The competition was run by work so I was declared ineligible, and I have no use for $2,000 worth of house paint since I don’t own a house and the house I rent is brick, but still. I wasn’t wearing shorty overalls, so progress is being made. My luck is definitely turning.

I’d go buy a lotto ticket if they weren’t so damn expensive.

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Writer of things. Annoyer of cats. Mother of very small dragons.

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