I’m back in The People’s Republic of San Francisco for a few days, seeing family & friends, meeting with my agent, etc. and I’d planned to just keep posting photos from my vast storehouse of living-in-Japan weirdness, but this time I keep being surprised by ordinary Stateside stuff that I’d never noticed before.

Like, dirty money.

Seriously, in Japan, even the money that’s handed back to you at the convenience story by the multi-pierced clerk looks like grandma stayed up all night ironing and starching it. The only sign of wear is the faint single faded line exactly in the middle of each bill, where each person who handled it folded it in the exact same place to slip it into ye olde wallet.