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Dirty Money

September 26, 2002

I've been running around like a frenetic fanatic the past couple of days, running errands and tying up loose ends in preparation for my flight to Dallas this afternoon. Just a few minutes ago I ran downstairs to transfer my load of laundry (a mixed load, I'll confess, and I still washed it warm) into the dryer. After I'd pulled every damp item out of the washing machine, I spied one lone shiny quarter at the bottom. "Hoorah," I thought, "free money, clean as a whistle!"

And it's a good thing I spied it, because other-wise my shorts' pockets would have been exactly 25¢ too short to get the dryer rolling. How small and perfect. But I shouldn't be suprised; things almost always come together this way, in my silly joke of a life.

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