The past week was full of events. It all started on a foggy morning when, still half-asleep, I parked in my usual spot near work. The process took longer than usual because I was slow to think after several long workdays in a row. I opened the door and saw this: $52 lying on the ground. Without thinking twice, I grabbed it, looked up at the sky, and said thank you (for some reason in English—well, it makes sense, they weren't rubles). That same evening, I saw a little fawn on the road, just like Bambi.

I discovered a place with probably at least a hundred types of ice cream. I tried the ginger one; it was quite tasty and inexpensive.

Two days later, I was working as a busser for the evening shift again. A customer approached me—we had previously exchanged a few words about the paper towels hanging over our tables in the restaurant instead of napkins. He handed me a $10 tip personally, even though it's not allowed. Usually, a busser just gets a percentage at the end of the day from each waiter. But he insisted, saying I work with heart and give it my all; as it turned out, he had been watching me. That same evening, after work, I saw a fox crossing my path.

The next day promised $25 in that same parking spot. You can't call it a pattern twice, so I decided if I find it again, I'll ask my employer about these dollars. I ate ice cream with colleagues that same evening, and we encountered a skunk. It was funny; they were very afraid of it and jumped onto the bench every time it approached.

As you can see, these days are rich in money and animals, which is quite surprising.

Now I live alone in a huge house; the Americans' vacations and holidays are over, and the tourism business is slowing down. It feels like everyone in the nearby houses has died out; there's no one around. Also, one of the four things mentioned above seems to have broken in my four-wheeled friend. I'll need to do something about that the day after tomorrow.