Aha!

Hey jukebox guy, our bad.

So we looked in our wallet this morning and *then* we got it. One dolla dolla bill, ya'll. One. We had four when we walked into the bar last night (and no, we didn't need a drink *that* bad, silly).

This is so not a story about desolution and emptiness, because we got an ATM card, b*tches.

Anyway, when we went to the ol' jukebox, we pulled out two dollars, but did we? One must've dropped to the floor. Thus, jukebox guy gave it to us. Sure, he wasn't the best communicator in the world ("Here, fella, you dropped this," would've been nice), but his heart was in the right place.

***
Currently listening to: Birds chirping outside our window. And no, we don't wish they'd shut the f*ck up.