You don’t know who you’ll see, what your day will bring, or whether you’ll unsuspectingly step directly into freshly paved patch of street with a new pointy-heeled boot. (Hint: Are you me? Then, yes. Yes you will.)
Life is uncertain, my friends. And what better way to learn that lesson than to discover that you’re holding a dollar bill with a mystery booger on it?
Something compelled me to purchase my morning coffee from the little street cart as opposed to Starbucks, where I usually
feed my addiction get my latte. I like to think it was me being frugal, and perhaps...even socially responsible?
If you must know, there was no line by the coffee cart, and the Starbucks line was out the damn door. My decision to go to the cart had everything to do with that, and nothing to do with Starbucks…social….responsibi—um, hmmm. (People who feel compelled to discuss their issues with Starbucks’ global domination with me WHILE I’m holding a cup of Starbucks coffee in my hand irk me to no end, such that I’ve become incredibly adept at tuning them out entirely. I’ve thus completely avoided becoming informed about said issues. Spite is the best teacher!)
I paid for my coffee, and walked away from the coffee cart. Because it was ass-freezingly cold outside, rather than putting my cash away immediately, I hustled said ass into my building lobby, money in hand. “Hmmm.” I thought. “This money is…sticky!”
I naively thought that it was syrup or something. I looked down, and realized I was very, very wrong. It was not syrup at all. It was...this:
And I had TOUCHED IT! I didn’t know what to do.
Who had put the booger there? And for the love of cheese, WHY?! Is it some poor man's version of the expression, "Wiping your ass with $100 bills?"
I sprinted upstairs, threw out the dollar (wouldn’t you have?!) and poured about sixteen pounds of Purell into my hands. I’ve attempted to move on with my life, but each hour has been a struggle. I think there’s only one man out there who can soothe my troubled soul: