The Absurdity Station

Some days I am convinced that my life is a train trip that keeps stopping to rest at the Absurdity Station.
We returned from Cuba to face a few bills, as one would expect. One of which was from VISA. It was the usual follow up statement noting we'd paid off the bill in full last time, but it had an exciting twist. Said credit card company has changed the way it charges interest. I can't think how it put it and I refuse to look because it's annoying, but the upshot was that even though the bill had no outstanding charge on it, we were still dinged for interest.
Sixty-eight cents.
Yes, that's right. They spent fifty-seven cents on a stamp, plus two pages of the bill itself, plus envelope, and worker time and ink and dog-knows-what else to charge me $00.68.
First I laughed. Then I realized they are so sticky about this sort of thing they'd send a collection agency after me to get it if I didn't pay up pronto. That vision made me laugh, too, as I could imagine the lousy publicity they'd get when word got out that they'd sicced the dogs on me.
Instead I chose to fight absurdity with absurdity.
I sent them a cheque for the full amount. Sure, there's a cost to me, but someone there will have to go through the trouble and expense of cashing it.
Have a nice day VISA.
Don't spend it all in one place.