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She simply cannot miss even one spin of the dial, one moment of the action. Having drained the night and the wallet completely, the spouse is at home, watching, waiting, expecting an explanation for the absence of money in the accounts and the missing partner on the other side of the mattress, an accounting, if you will, of their combined lack of sleep. In the casino, both money and time cease to exist. It is always dazzlingly bright and loud. A loud rainstorm with lightning shows and thunder exhibits that rock the hilltops would not be noticed inside the casino. Casinos do not construct windows. Even their entry doors are double thick, smoky charcoal sun screened glass. Like the hotel California, one can check out but he can never leave. This misalignment of nature plays tricks on the mind, much like the factory chickens that are fooled by artificial light and darkness into laying more eggs every 24 hours; the gambler is fooled out of his own body's hunger, plied with liquor, unaware of the passage of time. On the rare occasion she steps outside, bright sunlight temporarily blinds her as she arrived in the afternoon and so is somewhat baffled to discover the entire night or full moon has passed her by unawares. She is astonished by the passage of time, finding it is tomorrow and the consequences of last night, beyond the second set of doors guarded by the uniformed tribesmen and women challenging her to "have a nice day" or "come back soon," wait silently beside them. The two are mutually exclusive for the addicted gambler as having a nice day has exactly nothing to do with coming back anytime soon to a casino.

Once more, it is only when he finds his way back to his car which he fears (yet recklessly hopes) has been stolen so he can file an insurance claim to pay back some of the Visa bills - he absolutely cannot remember where he parked this time. Pulling into the multiplex, lighted tangle of cars the night before he was already hearing "I love a parade" as he envisioned himself hitting the jackpot, a crowd of jealous, applauding onlookers press in too close, hoping the winner will show largesse with such a win, ignorant of the thousands he already "invested" in order to align the red cherries in triplicate. Only in the car does the lead weight of despair hit the compulsive gambler and the losses turn to panic about the overdrafts highlighting his checking account. Only then does reality demolish him like a death wish and he knows with absolute candor that

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