No. Not that laundered money.
Literally — laundered money.
Whenever laundry gets done around this casa, I usually find a lot of coin in that circular-spin-drum-thingy, after the spin cycle. It gets deposited into the guilty pleasures frog bank that sits on the file cabinet in my office. Because it’s my guilty pleasure.
A couple of years ago, I pulled this from the c-s-d-t after the spin cycle.
Five bucks, baby! Sir Wilfred Laurier is looking stern. We will have no fiscal cliff here.
I love our money. See the cute hockey players?
So. This has been sitting on my desk for two years now. At least. I can’t throw it away. It’s money. It won’t fit in a coin wrapper. What to do.
What to do.
Do you think I can tape it together and spend it?
Do you think Starbucks would take it, because I could really use an Americano about now?
What about the convenience store?
A Snickers bar wouldn’t go unappreciated.
In fact. Now that I’ve typed Snickers bar, I really want one.
I need a Snickers bar.
How about a trade?
One torn, wrinkled Canadian Five Dollar Bill for a Snickers bar.
I could tape it.
Word on the street is that they’re being replaced by a small, tasteful coin.
We’re starting the week with a blog quickie.
Monday’s in the house.