And this particular penny was made in 2012, already casted out to the cold, unforgiving floor. The tarnished face of Abe Lincoln stared into my soul, its eyes almost pleading for me to pick it up. A mixture of mud and gum stuck to the jaw and hair of his bust. Surrounding him were old 7-11 Big Gulp cups, condom wrappers, empty chip bags, and a box that once held an opaque meat log filled with yellow bits of what seemed to be toothpaste disguised as cheese. What kind of human being would do this to our 16th president? Who became the catalyst of the abolitionist movement? So, in solidarity, I moved in to pick him up. My heart was filled with pure compassion for this poor, circular shaped alloy. My right hand was moving in for the grab; my left hand prepared a napkin.
Then my dog ate it.
My lesson? Instead of contemplating the fate of an arbitrary penny, watch your dog. She might do stupid things like eating a penny.
I really found this post to be enlightening. Simply, it works. Despite the abrupt change in topic from the over analyzation of finding the penny to your dog eating it, you induced greatly of not "contemplating the fate of an arbitrary penny." Logically it works because in over thinking, we are not watching over blank, that might be doing stupid things like in your example. Its just a penny! Don't spend more time on it than its worth.
ReplyDeleteAlso fix, "She might [to => do] stupid things"
-Victor V.