There shall always be a minimum of one dollar in coins in my possession at any given time

I know this sounds silly but I sat down yesterday during my weekly madness analysis. I hadn’t eaten all day and I did something I usually do: fish around in my shirt and jeans pockets, my coat, empty my drawers, and at the end of it all, came up with exactly one dollar in coins.

When I went to the vending machine however, I discovered one of the quarters belonged to that category of thin coins the owners of the vending machine put in although the machine doesn’t accept those same coins back. Wahala.

Ever since I came here, I run out of money in hand approximately every two weeks. Walking to the ATM is overkill for a lazy soul like me so I’ve formed the bad habit of rummaging through my things until I find the exact amount I need which never is below a dollar. For some reason, I always find what I want to find hence the law.

Back to the story.

Back I stomped to my room to do more searching. In my bag, between my books, behind my computer (where I found a dime), under the bed (five cents) and when I had almost given up, inside my rarely opened box (where I found another dime).

Quod erat demonstrandum.

A muffin never tasted better…