Money: That’s What I Want

Not really. I honestly don’t care too much about it. Would I be going to school for my Master’s in Education if I did?

Still, I can’t help but wish I had a little more of the green stuff. That I could find a little bit growing on an exotic tree somewhere in Des Moines (so much impossibility in that sentence). But, to be honest, my gargantun grocery bills are slowly getting spliced. I’ve begun considering whether the extra drink is really economical (and, gauging by the point in the night, truly essential). I’m getting more excited about the prospect of finding pennies—though I still only pick up those that are heads-up (superstition apparently triumphs sensibility).

It’s hard for me to imagine the gloriousness of actually having money. Real money. I don’t need money to purchase some Jimmy Choos—let’s be honest, even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to walk to the mailbox in them—but I’d like to have enough to be unable to tally up in my head exactly how much a similar Jimmy Johns sandwich would cost to make.

The worst part? The more I think about money, the more apt I am to spend it. Case in point: I will now depart to the website for some Cyber Monday sales. Sayonara.


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