Did you know that cash money is the number-one carrier of pink eye? (Who just told me that? Someone just told me that recently. Matt Newell? I think so). Money is filthy! And it makes sense, because all God’s children are passing it around all day, from hand to grubby hand, in and out of sweaty pockets, dropped on bathroom floors and picked up again, and whatever else you can imagine; if a place is gross, I’ll bet money has been there.

That said, if you’re too grossed out to keep your cash now and want to get rid of it, I’ll be more than happy to take it off your hands — then you can go wash those hands immediately. You’re welcome.

Today I went to the big, pretty central library, which I’ve been frequenting ever since I started working up the street from it. Those sillies got all mixed up about my fines. I had a fine of $3.60, which I paid on Dec. 1, then checked out 3 more books, which I also let get overdue. I renewed them online on the 15th, and owed a 90-cent fine. Well, they were trying to tell me that I had paid the 90 cents and still owed the $3.60! I made the woman get her manager, and the manager kept saying the same thing over and over: “It shows that you paid the 90 cents but not the $3.60.” Which is physically impossible, because I hadn’t been to the library since I checked out the books that eventually cost me the 90 cents. And even more illogical, you can’t check out books when you have fines, and clearly I checked out 3 more books on the 1st, so clearly I must have paid my fines. Sigh. Sometimes people do not use their brains.

Despite the fact that the difference we’re talking about here was $2.70, it’s the principle of the whole thing. You can’t just take my (filthy) cash and forget about it and tell me I didn’t pay it, because I did, by George. And I stood there and pointed out the logic of my thinking and non-logic of hers until she waived the $3.60. But the whole time she acted like she was doing me some huge favor, like it was somehow my fault that they don’t securely fasten their thinking caps. Sigh again. In any case, I was proud of myself for sticking to my guns. And by the by, I paid my correct 90-cent fine and made sure to get a receipt.

So after that happened, I went into the library gift shop, which has become a favorite spot of mine to buy gifts due to its selection of generally awesome and delightful things. Awesome and delightful, but not particularly cheap. I ended up dropping a cool hundy on a handful of gifts for others (and two calendars for myself). As my break ended and I walked back inside and up to my desk, I was contemplating this “cool hundy” and wondering about other “hip” ways to say that I just spent a hundred dollars that I hadn’t expected to spend, because somehow if I say it in a different way it makes me feel a little better about the whistling sound of wind blowing through the sparsely populated tundra of my bank account. And the other way to refer to a hundred is, of course, as a Benjamin, but at that moment I couldn’t remember if old Benny Boy Franklin is on the hundred or the twenty. So I came back to my desk and looked it up, and here’s what I found out: (Thanks, Marshu.com.)

I’m thinking I want to start referring to all paper solely by the first name of the man whose face is on it, or a nickname where appropriate, and all coins by last names only. “Do you have change for an Andy?” I’ll ask. “One Alex, an Honest Abe, and five Georges would be good. Thanks!” Or, “Can I get four Washingtons for a George?” Sometimes I’ll call one-dollar bills “Jorge”s, to acknowledge the increasingly significant Latin American influence here in the U.S. And I always get excited to see Toms, because you just don’t see them very often.

Has anyone ever seen a Woodrow Wilson, or a “Woody”? (ahem). I know I sure haven’t — but life’s not over yet! I did one time hold fourteen crisp Grovers in my hand when my dad was about to buy a car with cash, and that was a nice feeling indeed. It would have been even nicer if the Grovers were mine, but still.

Someday I hope to have a Woody’s worth of cash and more. But for now I’d be thrilled if I could drum up a Salmon or two and a couple Jimmys. And if they’re crawling with Pink Eye, that’s just a sacrifice I’ll have to make.