Have you ever rummaged through an old pair of pants and found a horribly mangled twenty dollar bill stuffed into the deep recesses of the pockets, in a place that your fingers never dared venture before? Whenever that happens I wish for tiny little fedoras to be placed on my finger tips so they can feel even more like Indiana Jones discovering some ancient treasure. But then I realize that means my pockets would needs traps and snakes to complete the scene, and the last time I had a mousetrap in my pockets it wasn't a mouse that got caught in it.

It is quite exhilarating, though.

Until you realize that twenty is just going to go towards another pair of pants that, in a few years, will be nothing but lint filled pockets that don't have twenty dollar bills hiding out in them. Then what? Then you have to go find the money in a place where you know it'll be. That's nowhere near as fun. What's even worse is if you find lint where you expect money to be.

It starts with mouth denial.
"I know it's here somewhere"

Then finger denial.
They scrape about frantically.

Next is eye denial.
Looking everywhere possible, even checking your wallet at least five times.

Finally, acceptance.

Luckily I haven't had to accept the fact that no one ever reads this quite yet. One person has read it all along, perhaps hoping one day to find to find a twenty of her own. Although what her hands are doing rummaging through my pants, I will never know. All I can do is offer her a new pair and hope she enjoys it as much as the last.

I'll try to keep a few bucks in them for you.