Here's the deal.  I have no job - as of yet - for the summer and, brilliant money manager that I am (really, I'm a catch ladies), I have no real saving with which to draw from to keep life running.  It's not that I'm not looking for work.  I am.  I just haven't found any yet.  So, I check my back account online and see where I'm at (not too terrible), and then discover that the hosting fees for my website - due in two days - are actually a little more than I had remembered.  And I am thirty-three cents short.  Now, I don't want my bank account to be overdrawn.  So I think, I need to deposit thirty-three cents into my bank account, right?  I check the cash I have on me, I have thirty-one cents.  Two pennies.  That's it.  I'm going to get overdrawn for two pennies?

Well, I get settled in to my personal writing and I notice in my closet that I have some photographic equipment that I've been thinking about getting rid of.  Why not call the local camera store - a mile and a half away - and see if they buy?  What do you know?  They do.  So I (my carless-self) trudge down the mile and a half, carrying a hefty box of photographic goodness.  I get to said camera store and lo and behold, they don't buy the brand I have.  But a place another five (Seattle) blocks away might possibly, but they don't really know how to give me directions.  I start to look for it, but I can't find any of the streets they referred for my navigational benefit.  So I give up and head back the miles and a half - plus a few (Seattle) blocks.

Okay.  Option one didn't pan out.  Big deal.  I can figure something else out, right?  So I gather up quite a few books I've already read and don't need anymore, plus a box I've been meaning to get rid of for a long while, and put them all together in a nice big box o' literary delight.  There's a bookstore a little ways away that buys a fair amount of books.  Tonight I was going to be heading there anyway to attend a reading with a few of my friends.  That was at eight, so I thought, why not just head out around six, sell the books, and do some writing before the reading?  Good plan, right?  Well, I neglected to check the buying hours for the store.  They stopped buying at six.  I arrived at six-thirty.  Great.  So I hop on another bus, haul the load back up the hill to my apartment, get on yet another bus and attempt to make to the reading and meet my friends by eight.

It just feels like one thing after another fell apart on me today.  You know?  And then, of course, I get home and find two extra pennies.  Brilliant.  Right?