Flashes of Panic

Every time I count out the found money I remember the biggest found money haul we ever turned up.

Several apartment moves ago, for complicated reasons, we found ourselves moving in to a unit less than 24 hours after the previous tenant had moved out. We promised that building manager that we were not distressed by the lack of a full-unit clean-out, and so when we started loading in we discovered plenty that the previous tenant had left behind.

Any worries about cleanliness, for example, were put to rest by the massive overstock of cleaning supplies left behind. (We’re still using some of it.) There was an ancient Macintosh SE which was eventually recycled, a half-closetful of nice clothes which fit neither of us and got donated. And a cookie tin with so much change in it, I initially thought it was painted to the windowsill because it was so hard to lift.

I finally got it out and on to the floor and started counting, which took the better part of an afternoon. After sorting out various foreign coins (the Netherlands was well represented, for some reason, and there were plenty of Asian coins I later learned had been yen) I tallied up the American change and reached a total on the close order of $125.

One of the sacrifices of that particular move had been trading our own laundry in the basement for building-wide coin-op laundry. (This accounted for the sheer weight of the tin: the bulk of the mass was high weight-to-value-ratio dimes, nickels, and pennies.) Therefore, once I’d counted out and rolled as much of the haul as possible, I took it to a local bank and swapped it for roll after roll of quarters, which lasted us for several months of laundry.