A couple hours ago, while just shifting things around on my desk, I was surprised by a dollar popping out from beneath my keyboard, and it's been puzzling me since. Now, if I was the type of individual who found himself, more often than not, digging through a mountain of papers to find his keyboard, this would probably happen with some form of regularity, but that's the absolute antithesis of the level of order with which I regulate the components of my workspace. To put it simply, when it comes to my desk, I'm somewhat of a neat-freak. As such, that sight had me utterly perplexed. How did it get there? It wasn't the least bit crumpled. Did someone slip it there? I couldn't place it. Then, I thought back. A couple days ago, I found myself thinking I was short a dollar, but I just thought I must have just miscounted somewhere along the line, and dismissed the possibility. Finding this bill has led me to believe that my first hypothesis was correct, but how did it take me three days to find it? I know that I moved my keyboard around since then, and I even cleaned up most, if not all, of my room just a couple days ago. I just couldn't figure out how I went without noticing it, but I can only now assume that it just maintained its mischievous composure as it crept along below the randomly moving keyboard. At least, it managed to continue for a couple days unnoticed, but finding it made me ponder something, and my conclusion isn't much of a stretch.
It seems that finding money is much more satisfying that putting in the time to earn it. That dollar may not be worth much in the grand scheme of things, but I can't think of how I could have used a dollar in a manner that would have lent me more joy. To top it off, I didn't even spend it; I still have it. I didn't spend any time thinking about all of the things I could now buy. It's not worth enough to plan spending. It might not even cover the whole cost of a soda, but, somehow, finding it was exciting. Finding money feels like an absolutely magical gift for whom we owe thanks to no one. Of course, if it's any noticeable amount of money, you should try to find out to whom it belongs, but if it's just a few bucks whose owner could not logically be found, then enjoy it! In this case, I'm pretty certain it was mine all along, but, if I wasn't, I would investigate the matter. As I see it, the pleasures of found money are a small balancer, or equalizer, of our society. It can even level your head, literally. If you find yourself "down in the dumps", you just might find yourself walking around, dragging your feet, staring aimlessly at the few steps ahead, but that's just where you might find that random ten-dollar bill. It's a little pick-me-up, and finding it might make you feel like your day just might be okay after all, and that just might send you looking straight-ahead, level, or maybe even looking up. You could be having a crummy day, but that little moment makes you feel like your luck may have taken an upward turn. Somehow, working for an hour, flipping burgers, to earn that ten dollars, just doesn't seem like it would create such a positive shift in your attitude. That doesn't just apply to minimum wage jobs either. I'm pretty sure that even a well-to-do individual, pulling in a hundred dollars an hour, would find a little nugget of joy in finding a ten-dollar bill on a miserable day, and I bet the six minutes it would have taken them to earn it couldn't have done the same. It's a balancer, but always a positive, I can't think of any time finding some random money would make me feel worse. It always feels like it fell from the sky. Maybe that's why we find ourselves looking up!
All in all, that's what I'm trying to ramble about. It's not much of an argument, just an aside, a comment to the wind, and I felt like throwing it out there. All I want to say is that a dollar found is better than a dollar earned.
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