That Time I Found $10

A couple of days ago I was walking my dogs, the usual occurrence that happens twice daily, but sometimes not until 10am on Saturdays if Friday night lasted until after midnight. On the occasional weekend morning, my boyfriend will wake up without saying a word, get out of bed and take them on a walk for me. If you are a single dog mom that lives in a 3rd floor apartment without a back yard, then you will know that is, without a sliver of a doubt, the most romantic thing a boyfriend can do for his girlfriend. Forget flowers or chocolates or surprise bottles of wine, if a boy is willing to walk two dogs that were not originally adopted by him, that's romance. That's love. Surprise wine is also love though, just so we aren't leaving that out. 

So like I was saying, I was walking the dogs on Tuesday afternoon. There are two very slender, long patches of grass designated solely for dog poop next to my building. Every hooman that lives in the building is fully aware that stepping anywhere in either row of grass can be lethal. I'm walking Gee and Veenie along, watching their bum holes, hoping for poop on the horizon (if you're a dog parent then you're lying if you say you don't do this too), when I spot a crumpled up $10 bill in the grass.  To say I felt psychotic over the series of thoughts that would follow is an understatement.   My first thought was obviously to pick it up. 

Before I picked the money up, I spotted a man and his dog out of the corner of my eye. He was closer to me than he should have been, abusing the unspoken, yet implied, "allow 30 feet of space between the dogs you're walking and someone else's dogs." The man was lingering in the no-zone, 25ish feet away. 

I instantly decided that he was conducting a social psychological experiment to see how many people would pick up the 10 bill. If I picked up that $10, my picture would surely be found in a University of Texas at Dallas study, showcasing the link between those that picked up the $10, and long-term emotional damage from the verbal abuse of a summer camp counselor or something.     I briskly walked in the other direction, acting as if I had never even seen the money. 
When that man and his dog headed back inside without taking my picture on a disposable flip phone or scribbling any notes, I walked the dogs back toward the money. 
I paced the same 5 feet back and forth, essentially standing guard over the money. Thoughts continued...

What if that show What Would You Do Is Taping Me? I'll be forever on television, portrayed as the greedy, desperate girl that couldn't just leave the $10 in the grass for the original owner to come back and retrieve. The girl that didn't even try to put posters up, "FOUND $10. No tags. Call 555-555-5555 to claim." 

No one is looking, just pick it up. I could get Chipotle WITH guacamole!!!
Then I got bit by a mosquito. I smacked my ankle and took that as a sign to leave it.  I'll leave it for one of the homeless guys that always begs for money. 
But what if some random girl walking her dogs takes it for herself, the homeless guys won't get the $10.
I'll just pick it up and save it for one of the homeless guys that asks me for money. They'll be so happy. 
Another guy came out to walk his dog, and, after quickly determining he was a psychology student at Baylor, I scurried inside with one dog who had pooped and one who hadn't, abandoning the wadded up $10 bill. 

I checked the next morning, vowing to pick it up if it was there, and it was of course gone. I felt crazy. Like a crazy person. 

I told CB I had found $10 and you know what he said? He said, "Oh sweet! We can get Chipotle."  I then explained my full thought process and why we wouldn't be having Chipotle. He listened, agreed that I was indeed crazy. But the sweet man that he is told me he loved me for my crazy.