Oh, little coin, what a mistake you have made. Letting yourself be found without any effort to hide. My wife commands me to figure out how to log you in. I cry out to her that I have no interest in this pursuit, but she does not seem to care. So I figured out how to log you in. But a hate now stirs inside me for the time you just took from my valuable Saturday. Dear little coin, it is clear to me you must be punished. What to do? Shall I dump you in the trash and end your journey? Perhaps burn you in the fireplace? What will my paper shredder do to you? Or shall I hide you in a cache somewhere in the wilderness. Perhaps on our next trip to NH? That sounds like a delightful plan. A nice remote cache where you will spend many months alone in a dark little container. Under a rotting tree perhaps. That will teach you. New Hampshire it is, my little coin. Until then, you can just sit by my computer and continue to stare at me.