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Buy my gal a brand-new dress and I'll throw the rest away
I just rolled twenty-five dollars' worth of dimes, nickels, and pennies into those little paper sleeves in which you deposit coins at the bank. It came out of a mug on the mantelpiece that had been collecting non-quarter pocket change since we moved here. I say this not to boast—it's going straight into the rent—but to remark on this practice, which I grew up with and think of as normal and couldn't help wondering as I fought with the little paper sleeves if anyone will still observe in another ten years or if coins really are on the way out. I hope not. I don't want a paperless, cashless society; I like things I can hold. I couldn't find a nickel older than 1961 or a penny older than 1959; the dimes all bottomed out in the '80's. I put away my birth year more than a dozen times.
It has been a very house-intensive day. I worked. I cleaned off the dining room table and sorted its piles of mail. I paid bills. I mopped the kitchen floor after the horrifying discovery of a spore nest by the back porch door. I walked out to Stop & Shop while it was still relatively warm and sunny and bought jam and cheese and matzah. I have not yet determined what is making the high-pitched, painfully ear-filling tone we've been hearing for two days and nights now, but the fact that I can hear it while standing on the sidewalk at the top of my street decreases the chances of it being some electronic responsibility of the third-floor tenants, unfortunately. Street noise kept me from pinpointing it further, even after walking around the block a couple of times. I poured out and sorted and counted and rolled coins.
In short, today feels like I've been awake forever.
It has been a very house-intensive day. I worked. I cleaned off the dining room table and sorted its piles of mail. I paid bills. I mopped the kitchen floor after the horrifying discovery of a spore nest by the back porch door. I walked out to Stop & Shop while it was still relatively warm and sunny and bought jam and cheese and matzah. I have not yet determined what is making the high-pitched, painfully ear-filling tone we've been hearing for two days and nights now, but the fact that I can hear it while standing on the sidewalk at the top of my street decreases the chances of it being some electronic responsibility of the third-floor tenants, unfortunately. Street noise kept me from pinpointing it further, even after walking around the block a couple of times. I poured out and sorted and counted and rolled coins.
In short, today feels like I've been awake forever.
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Same. Cash is so much more tangible.
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And doesn't track you quite so closely . . .
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