2 1/2 days down. 11 1/2 to go.
And your wife is already losing her mind.
Last night it was imperative that I roll coins. Not sure where this urge came from, but I sat down and sorted every coin that I could find in your giant Coca Cola bank and in your (clean) truck. Every piece is either rolled or organized by type into labeled Ziploc baggies.
Then, it seemed only rational that I try to live on those coins for the remaining 11 1/2 days.
You know how much I like a challenge.
My purse is overflowing with at least a dozen coin-filled Ziploc bags.
It weighs a good 20 lbs and I am starting to walk like Quasimoto.
(You needed to be warned that your wife looks like a recluse hunchback so that you are not alarmed when you come home to that creature.)
I've been paying for everything with sandwich bags of coins. Since they are labeled, I just hand the whole bag over to cashiers.
It sort of makes me feel like a pirate or a 1920's bank robber. Maybe I should get one of those black masks like the Hamburglar had.
Are you "Grimmacing" at the thought?? (See?? LOSING IT.)
Believe it or not, when I was getting my hair cut today, someone asked me if I had change.
I just opened my purse and she looked at me wide-eyed.
Well, she asked.
Anyways, just wanted you to be warned.