So to keep on moving, today I took the winter's flannel sheets to the laundromat and erranded a couple of other places, like the bank machine where I discover my account miraculously swollen again, this time by my tax refund. I was there to deposit my top-up cheque from the province, which I thought was a pittance added each month. Must be something else, though it was still a pittance, but hey- every bit helps.
I can't tell if my spending is down during quarantine or not. I suspect it is (acupuncture and massage ate a good $200 plus a week) even though my last credit card bill was a heart stopper. But that, on analysis, is because the comfortable bank balance attendant on not having automatic withdrawals for property tax led me to make donations here and there, so my actual purchases were only half of that. But withdrawals start again this month, plus a third again to cover the arrears, so money coming in is appreciated.
Very few places these days accept cash, so my last bank withdrawal is sitting untouched in my wallet. Cashless society for me is only a problem at the laundromat, because no one taking cash = no one making change. The machine will take tens, but do I want ten dollars in loonies, toonies, and quarters? No, not really. No place to spend them. A dilemma.
(Well, there are the regular Bloor St panhandlers to whom I contribute when I find myself down there, but I wonder how they manage when almost no one is accepting cash?)