Like Publishers Clearing House, except with regular sized checks...

I nervously counted the money onto the table for the eighth or ninth time.
I shuffled letters and checks and tried to figure out various presentation methods. Grandiose horrific fantasies where I tripped and all the money went down the sewer or there was a car wreck and a disreputable paramedic pocketed the money while I lay there bleeding consumed me.
I decided unreservedly that I was not cut out to be financier and was sort of glad this whole collecting money effort was over with, then Tre opened the front door and fought off the spastic advances of the puppy to reach us in the kitchen.
I showed her the cash pile and she heartily approved.
Off we went to Lisa's new apartment.
Lisa looked extremely suspicious when she opened the door. She had expected Tre but not us. I gave her the card first and after she read the inscription she looked up to me holding a thousand plus dollars in front of her.
I told her how much there was and counted off all the cards and letters from total strangers, she just stared into the pile and choked out,
"I don't understand."
When it finally sunk in, there were tears and laughing out loud about how she thought we were intending to surprise her with a pizza. Being the uncomplicated girl she is, claimed she "would have been perfectly happy with a pizza..." We all walked across the compound to fetch her remaining drafting table from her burned out apartment since it was so heavy and there was four of us after all. I cursed myself for not bringing my camera so I could snap photos but as soon as the door was opened, the idea completely left me. Any brevity that existed moments prior got sucked right into the literal and figurative black hole in the middle of the floor.
I choked on the cold dank smokiness and let one of my major life-long fears crawl all over me like cockroaches.
The smallest details were the most bizarre and unsettling: the straight black line where the flames broke through the floor, the boot print of the firemen on the front door, and the untouched stack of boxed wooden matches. I circled the draft table to unhook the top and felt the floor groan and buckle under my weight. My stomach fell into my shoes.
We carried the tabletop down the stairs and I was glad to be out while I washed the soot off my hands.
Lisa sat still shocked at the gift through dinner with a glazed countenance while I destroyed a really good calzone.
Suddenly her expression changed and she announced, "Okay, I think I have moved through the stunned phase and have gone to really really happy."

Thanks to everybody for everything, it was all worth it. Expect a posted note from Lisa in the future to offer her gratitude.