Yesterday evening The Bunny, The Chicken and I went to a grocery store deli for dinner. After the store, Bunny needed to stop by the post office for a few stamps. The post office was closed, but the lobby with the stamp machines is open 24 hours a day.

Bunny marched into the building with Chicken while I waited in the car. Time passed. A lot of time. Much more time than would normally be required to buy stamps from a machine. After five or six minutes, Chicken came out to the car and asked "Do you have any money? The machine won't take Mom's dollars."

I sent him back inside with four singles. Time passed. A lot of time.

At least ten minutes after entering, Bunny stormed out of the post office with murder in her eyes. When she climbed into the car, she told me all about the damn machine which will apparently only accept newly minted dollars that have been autographed with a blue Sharpie by the Secretary of the Treasury. Bunny had only one of those, which wasn't enough to buy the stamps she needed. Oh, and nearly everything was sold out. And the machine won't give back any money unless you buy something.

So Bunny bought something: a pack of fifty one cent stamps. You might think these next to useless until the next rate hike, but not so. We're using those bitches.