The other morning something happened to me that was awe inspiring.

Disturbing.

I cannot decide if it was some kind of miracle.

Or not.

Probably the “or not.”

I debated over sharing it.

Because it is so darn disturbing. Embarrassing. Kind of gross.

But I could not resist.

The other morning I woke up. As one does. Hopefully.

And I had to go to the bathroom. As one does. Regretfully.

I was wearing a ratty old tank top and underwear. As one does. To bed. Unfortunately.

When I pulled down my underwear to take care of business, I heard a clink of metal hit the floor. At first I thought one of my wedding rings had fallen off, but they were all on my fingers.

I looked down. And that is when I saw it.

A dime.

A dime had fallen out of my underwear.

Yes, you read that right.

What does this mean?

Where did it come from?

How is this possible?

Is there more to come?

Why am I sharing this?

Why am I reading this? Yes, I can read your mind. It is one of my many gifts, besides making change in my drawers.

I never knew I was this talented. The dime reads it was minted in 2001. It looks brand new.

I cannot decide if this is a good thing.

Or not.

So many questions.

My husband had many jokes about this. One being, “Maybe you’re going through the change.”

When I went to the restroom again later in the day and I did not get paid for it, I lamented the fact to my husband that no money was made.

To which he responded, “I guess it stopped on a dime.”

I am glad he thinks this is funny and not at all disturbing.

You hear of these things happening, but you never think it’s going to happen to you.

Wait.

What?

You’ve never heard of this happening before? Yea. Me neither. But it is slightly terrifying to be the first one.

And this is why they say money is dirty, folks.

Be sure to wash your hands.

And from now on, check your…ahem…pants.

‘Cause you never know.

There could be treasure in there.

Just call me The Bank of Jenni.

This is where a more vulgar gal would write about deposits or withdrawals. But I am a lady. And blogs like those… Well, they’re a dime a dozen.

I wouldn’t want to short change myself.

I am hoping this is the end of it.

The money making underwear.

And my puns wrapped in idioms.

Although I cannot decide which is worse.

Oh well. Like I said, it doesn’t matter. It won’t be happening again.

Would I bet my bottom dollar on it?

On a dime, I would.