As a cousin of mine once said about money, money is always there but the pockets change; it is not in the same pockets after a change, and that is all there is to say about money.
Ha! I found five bucks on the street today. I was just walking along with my dog, minding my own business, and there is was: a five dollar bill. So there you go, the pockets changed. I'm guessing the bill fell out of some middle schooler's pocket. The kid probably would have used the bill to buy lunch, but since I'm pretty much down on middle schoolers these days, I say this child has learned an important lesson. Use a wallet.
I remember this other time I found five dollars. I was probably about twelve. My sister and I were fighting over whose turn it was to take out the trash. In an injustice of outrageous proportions, it was finally determined by the gods on high -- namely, my mom -- that it was, apparently, my turn. So, in another example of the mile-high burden of suffering I endured as a child, I took out the damn trash, which meant that I had to walk, like, 100 whole feet to the parking lot of our apartment building and put the garbage in one of those big, stinky bins. (And it was stinky. I'm not exaggerating.) But, HA! I turned around, and there it was, on the parking lot asphalt: five dollars. There was not a soul in sight, so I grabbed the money and ran home.
"Look! I found five dollars!" I screamed to my mother and sister.
"That's not fair!" yelled my sister. "You have to share it with me!"
But I didn't share it because it was fricking mine!
(Which just goes to show that as much I suffered as a child, my mother suffered even more.)
Anyway, too bad for the sucker kid who lost his money because it's my money now. Mine. Mine. Mine. I'm a happy miser.
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