Time for a Change
Having developed a little case of cabin fever from being stuck inside working all weekend, I sneaked out of the house for a little while. I took two large milk jars of change with me, one filled to the top with quarters, nickles, and dimes, and the other filled nearly to the top with pennies. These, my friends, were the result of nearly three years of change-dumping.
I and my jars of change moseyed over to the Tom Thumb grocery down the street, which contains one of the coolest ever change-counting machines. Sure, I imagine most of these things work about the same way, and they're not really worth getting all that excited about maybe, but the way I see it 1) it's not all that often you need to count a ton of change, 2) I hate rolling coins (it was kind of fun for a while as a kid, but after finishing three or four rolls my paper-cut fingers would beg me to stop), and 3) if they'd had these things when I was a kid, I would have never left the grocery store. I thought any kinds of machines like this were the coolest thing in the world — lord help you if you were trying to drag me away from one of those crank things that smashes pennies at amusement parks.
Anyway, I really had no concept of how much change I had here. I figured at least 50 or 60 bucks, and I'd planned on being able to turn around to whoever happened to be watching whenever the machine was done counting and had delivered its verdict and give them a big old grin, as if I'd just scraped all these nickels up from under the couch or something. I wasn't quite prepared for what the total would be, though.
$165.97.
That's right, folks. Granted, the machine skimmed about $15 off the top for its own cut (which I actually consider about twice as much as it needs — I mean, seriously, it's a machine — no car payment, kids to feed, etc), but, again, when contemplating the thought of spending 6 or 8 hours rolling that much change, I figure my time is worth it.
Since I was already on that "what would I think of this as a kid" line of reasoning, the number was particularly amazing. I was one of those 5th graders who would hoard his money for 2 whole years, and then blow it on something stupid. It would invariably be a cooler something stupid than if I'd spent it 50¢ at a time on candy bars or something, but something stupid nonetheless — not quite sure why I never made the "let's go buy something I'd asked for for Christmas but didn't get" connection, but I didn't. $165 in change just dropping in my lap though — that would have been like the adult equivalent of winning the lottery or something. It definitely would have made me into a corrupt little bastard for a little while.
What was the first thing I bought with the new cash, you might ask? I wen to the nursery to buy a sheet of mesh material to hang over my plants to save what's left of them from the baking Texas summer sun. I guess that's why I'm not a kid anymore.
* * *
When spell-checking this entry I discovered that 'undraw' is a real word. And it doesn't even mean erase. Who'd have thought? Weird.
* * *
There's an ice cream and candy shop in East Dallas (on Ross, I believe) called Chupacabra's. Why a place named after a horrible monster that sucks the blood from goats would sound like a great place to take los niños for a scoop of rocky road is beyond me. Whatever makes people happy, I guess. . . .
I and my jars of change moseyed over to the Tom Thumb grocery down the street, which contains one of the coolest ever change-counting machines. Sure, I imagine most of these things work about the same way, and they're not really worth getting all that excited about maybe, but the way I see it 1) it's not all that often you need to count a ton of change, 2) I hate rolling coins (it was kind of fun for a while as a kid, but after finishing three or four rolls my paper-cut fingers would beg me to stop), and 3) if they'd had these things when I was a kid, I would have never left the grocery store. I thought any kinds of machines like this were the coolest thing in the world — lord help you if you were trying to drag me away from one of those crank things that smashes pennies at amusement parks.
Anyway, I really had no concept of how much change I had here. I figured at least 50 or 60 bucks, and I'd planned on being able to turn around to whoever happened to be watching whenever the machine was done counting and had delivered its verdict and give them a big old grin, as if I'd just scraped all these nickels up from under the couch or something. I wasn't quite prepared for what the total would be, though.
$165.97.
That's right, folks. Granted, the machine skimmed about $15 off the top for its own cut (which I actually consider about twice as much as it needs — I mean, seriously, it's a machine — no car payment, kids to feed, etc), but, again, when contemplating the thought of spending 6 or 8 hours rolling that much change, I figure my time is worth it.
Since I was already on that "what would I think of this as a kid" line of reasoning, the number was particularly amazing. I was one of those 5th graders who would hoard his money for 2 whole years, and then blow it on something stupid. It would invariably be a cooler something stupid than if I'd spent it 50¢ at a time on candy bars or something, but something stupid nonetheless — not quite sure why I never made the "let's go buy something I'd asked for for Christmas but didn't get" connection, but I didn't. $165 in change just dropping in my lap though — that would have been like the adult equivalent of winning the lottery or something. It definitely would have made me into a corrupt little bastard for a little while.
What was the first thing I bought with the new cash, you might ask? I wen to the nursery to buy a sheet of mesh material to hang over my plants to save what's left of them from the baking Texas summer sun. I guess that's why I'm not a kid anymore.
* * *
When spell-checking this entry I discovered that 'undraw' is a real word. And it doesn't even mean erase. Who'd have thought? Weird.
* * *
There's an ice cream and candy shop in East Dallas (on Ross, I believe) called Chupacabra's. Why a place named after a horrible monster that sucks the blood from goats would sound like a great place to take los niños for a scoop of rocky road is beyond me. Whatever makes people happy, I guess. . . .