This note is in reaction to a facetious and ridiculous conversation Brian and I had about what we would do with the millions and millions of Powerball dollars, if we won them. Our plans run ... non-parallel ... to each other, and realizing that had us in a fun back and forth about winning all the money, splitting it, and then getting divorced because we don't seem to want to do what the other wants to do. I want California. He doesn't want to pay the taxes in California. I don't care, that's where we're living. ... You know, the argument you all would expect us to have when he can't tell me that we can't afford to live in California. We giggled and "argued," going back and forth about what we would each do with our half of the money.
Apparently, Sydney was not amused. She wrote this note then left it on the stairs for us to find. We didn't find it, so she brought it to me while I was making her dinner. She had a very real concern that we would really get divorced if we won the money, so she told me she was actively hoping that we would lose. I'm like, no, we won't get divorced (but we might, if it came down to California versus not California, but don't tell her that), and please hope that we win, because I'd like a bigger house and to not have to work anymore.
Still, the note was a bit heartbreaking, if remarkably over dramatic.