In Which I Realize the Universe Is Probably Trying to Tell Me Something
This morning as I was walking in from the parking lot I dropped my wallet and a heretofore unknown $5 bill fell out.
“Hey, cool! Five dollars I didn’t know I had. Free money, whee! I can buy myself a beer at the happy hour thing tonight.”
(Yes, I say things like “Free money, whee!” to myself. Don’t hate.)
I pick it up and see that it’s not one $5 bill.
IT IS TWO FIVE DOLLAR BILLS.
We all know what this means.
At my desk as I’m putting everything back into my wallet, what do I find tucked in between my insurance card and a punch card from my favorite local sandwich shop?
A one dollar bill!
Now I can leave a *very* cheap tip for my two beers! But, wait! There’s more to the story than just my being a poor tipper.
I go to refold up all my newfound moolah and stuff it back into what I’ve now come to see not as a smallish wallet, but really a Bag of Holding and what do I discover?
IT IS NOT TWO FIVE DOLLAR BILLS, IT IS *THREE* FIVES.
I’m going to get so *fuxxored* up tonight!
Or leave a *really* good tip on my two beers.