UnfetteredBS wrote a cute little poem about finding some money in a pocket. I NEVER find money. So I’m not terribly familiar with that small life pleasure. The Masshole, on the other hand, ALWAYS finds money. I’m not joking, she always finds money. It’s not even fun for her anymore.
“Guess what I found in the Mini?” she starts. “A fifty dollar bill?” I say enviously. “No, I found that pen I was looking for! But I did find $68 in there too.”
Author’s note – she didn’t find a pen but it was something equally insignificant as finding a lost ink pen when compared to finding cash.
I’ve said before that she is my financial hero. But this is becoming ridiculous. Yesterday I found a wad of bills on our living room floor. She had been folding laundry and the laundered bills came falling out. An insignificant wad of bills on the ground, I immediately notice it. She casually walks away, probably because it’s under $10. “Eh, the cats can play with it” she thinks. I have a rule. When I go out for a night on the town, I always, ALWAYS, keep a general eye out for money on the ground. Drunk people lose dexterity. Grabbing specific bills from pockets and wallets gets difficult. Bills fall on the ground. I would like to be the one to find those lost bills because the Masshole won’t let me keep what I find in our house. And by our house, I mean, her car, her clothes or our laundry.