Today the apartment smelled funny, so we went over to the stove to see if we'd left it on and something was burning. Nothing was burning, but I told Betsy there was a dime under one of the burners. I had seen it a couple days before when she was out. Betsy took a knife and started poking around under the burner, trying to get the dime out.
"We can put it in our farmers market fund," she said.
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