Journal: Vending machine

There's this wierd broken vending machine where I work. It won't take dollars, and it eats quarters and nickels, but dimes ... ah, dimes. Each dime gets you ten cents worth of vending machine credit - and a dime. I've been giving money for my vending machine food to the appropriate authorities, but this very vending machine has risen to divinity in my personal panthenon of thought. Why dimes? How does a piece of hardware break in that precise way? If I made this up as a metaphor, what would it represent? Will I meet my noon tomorrow deadline?