A happy dollar

Well I'm cranky.

How are you?

***

If this were the start of an AOL instant messenger conversation, well, first, we'd be living a while in the past, but also, you might be on your computer, hearing the incoming ping of my messages and respond with:

YOU'RE ALIVE?!?!?!

Then you'd jump around in your room in your cutesy poodle pajamas.

***

Um, sorry, I just turned this into a made-for-TV Disney movie.

I'm a little rusty, people. Forgive me. First blog post since August.

Yah. August.

And what an august return this is!

Ha. Crack myself up.

Also, do y'all feel like "august" should mean something really negative? I think it sounds like a synonym for "bereft."

So this blog post is off to a good start.

Where were we.

Oh yes.

I'm cranky.

How are you?

Let's briefly address the former: I've been sick for about 11 days now. I'm over it. The end.

Now I would say let's address the latter of my statements (er, question), but since this is not AOL instant messenger I can't really hear your response, so shoot me an email or a text, will ya?

For now? Let's talk some more about me.

:)

***

Let's see, what have I not shared with the world via blog since my last post?

Well, I threw a bachelor party in Arizona. That was a blast.

Then my best friend got married in New Orleans. A beautiful, emotional affair in which I did not trip in front of many people.

And then I got sick.

The end.

Also, I cancelled Netflix. I met my 2017 Goodreads reading challenge (and yes, I counted books for small children in my tally). Helped co-lead a prayer retreat. Did some freelance copywriting for a website. Scheduled to have my picture taken for the church directory.

I went to the beach with Jillian, where I had the presence of mind to get each of us our own bag of Salsa Verde Doritos, because we obviously downed them all. My church held a jazz-style funeral on All Saints Day, complete with a brass quartet playing "Oh When the Saints." People cut in front of me in line a bunch -- seriously what is UP with that???

***

And now let's tell a happy story, that was an interruption to the stress and sickness of this past week.

One day this week -- we'll say Wednesday, because I don't remember which day exactly, and while I have the text message documentation to answer this question, well, I'm not going to do the research -- I forgot.

To bring.

A book.

To work.

H
O
R
R
O
R

I don't read on the clock (that'd be a dream, wouldn't it?) but I do read, on average, twice a day during my breaks, during lunch, and then before bed -- and any other time that Netflix seems too boring, Alex is busy, Max is tired of my snuggles (just kidding, that never happens), and reading just seems better than encountering life.

As such, I always grab a book -- or two, or three -- and tuck them in my tote bag before heading to the office.

Well, on Wednesday (or whatever day), I forgot.

Oftentimes I have a book on the passenger seat of my car, or in the trunk, but after rounding up a search party headed and conducted by me, I found nothing. Nada. No bound pages with black letters printed on them.

H
O
R
R
O
R

I couldn't stand for this.

Never mind that sometimes I get so caught up in my shiny phone during my breaks that I forget to read.

This was unacceptable.

Now. I may have some library fines that are unpaid. And these fines may have me blocked from checking out more books. And I might be waiting for pay day to pay these fines.

Also. I rarely, if ever, carry cash.

But for some odd reason, I've had a dollar in my wallet for weeks. Just one. I'm not a millionaire, people. We're talking one Washington.

I had previously purchased a memoir for one whole dollar (no tax) at my local library. Inside the front lobby, there is a humble used bookstore.

A ha! I thought. I will travel there. Because I can't survive one lunch hour without a book. No.

I arrived at the bookstore and found myself -- surprise! -- another memoir and handed the cheerful cashier my money.

"One sad, crumpled dollar," I said, as I forked it over.

"It's a happy dollar!" he chirped back at me. "Because it's going to support the library!"

Awesome! Any chance we can use this dollar as an advance on my next round of fines?

Then, something extra magical happened.

As my obvious new best friend took Mr. Washington from my hand, he then held it in front of his lips and said, "I'm a happy dollar!" before placing it in the cash register.

As if that wasn't enough, as I walked away, Mr. Obvious New Best Friend Cashier Person said,

"'ppreciate you."

No, Sir. I 'ppreciate you.

And that's the end of our happy story.

Wasn't that happy?

I told a coworker what had happened at the tiny bookstore and she was touched. "Only you," she said (though I happen to believe Mr. Obvious New Best Friend Cashier Person would have been just as nice and silly with anyone).

I'm happy to say, also, that I like the memoir I bought. I'm about halfway done already.

Hey friends, look at that!

I just wrote a blog post!

Ta dah!

Big bloggy hugs.

Bailey