When the caregiver asked me to pick up a carton of milk from a Parnell dairy recently, she had no idea of the mayhem she was introducing into our well-ordered life.
As I approached the counter, a lady customer rather rudely pushed in front of me to buy Lotto tickets.
Graciously, I stood back and waited my turn, deciding that I too would buy a ticket for that night's draw.
Allowing her to step ahead of me was some sort of lucky break, as the ticket that popped out next has won the opportunity to spin some sort of Lotto wheel that may or not win me a considerable sum of money.
That I'm some sort of big Lotto winner comes as no surprise, as I have firmly believed "lady luck" is sitting on my shoulder ever since I won a chocolate log cake in a British Youth Club Christmas raffle in 1949.
Admittedly, follow-up lucky events have been infrequent, but clearly, lady luck felt it was time to wake up and wave her magic wand again.
In this case I'm also grateful to the caregiver, not only for sending me on a milk errand but also for prudently checking the forgotten ticket electronically on her whizz-bang phone.
If I'd just checked the draw numbers, I'd have most likely thrown the ticket away without noting its discreet serial number, which was apparently selected from a million and a half other tickets for that particular Saturday, as the Winning Wheel winner.
There's an interesting rigmarole when you hand over a big prize ticket at a Lotto outlet. The machine confirming the result immediately shuts down as it awaits a call back to Lotto headquarters, much to the irritation of the waiting queue of would-be purchasers. I was advised that I would have to confirm that I was over 18 (sadly, yes) and that I was psychologically prepared to come on television to run the gauntlet of publicity.
I did contemplate remaining anonymous and sending my lawyer to spin the wheel instead, but as he'd charge a million dollars for the service, I've decided to face the ordeal myself.
I've noted that once in front of the camera, the contestant can spout a few hellos to acquaintances.
I can't decide between a cheery wave to ex-wives or greeting my bank manager, who's been a bit parsimonious over increasing my overdraft facility.