I can’t seem to accomplish a damn thing this week. I’m spinnin’ my wheels on even simple tasks. Naively at the start of the week, I’d imagined an über productive wind sweeping through my life, magically sorting out problems and neatly organizing everything into tidy stacks. There may have been bluebirds too, each holding an end of a lovely ribbon, which they’d fashion into a bow on the package of my life. That’s realistic, right?
Yesterday afternoon Pappy found a FIFTY (50) dollar bill in a parking lot! Truly there was no place to turn it in and we loitered for a bit to give the loser a chance to claim the loot. Eventually we took the money and ran and to assuage our guilt decided The Universe had benevolently chosen to smile upon our weary faces.
The most money I’ve ever found at once was around $30 at a random gas station parking lot. One other time Great Ern and I went to a cash machine and money was blowing all over the place, fueled by a strange, blustering wind. It was like a gluttonous philistine fantasy! As I ran around in a delirious frenzy, scooping up dough and wondering whether I’d go to Japan or New Zealand first, I realized:
- Security cameras were recording my every move and
- I’d never enjoy a penny of the money because I’d feel so guilty.
After collecting all the bills (and maybe sniffing them), I begrudgingly returned them to the bank. The teller was all, “How honest of you!” and I was all “I guess my only reward will be a sucker, huh?” Damn conscience!
So what should we do with the found money? Donate to any of a million deserving charities? Jokingly allocate toward my insurmountable student loan debt? Burn in effigy to our crumbling economy? Save? Splurge?