Goofus, or Gallant?

I'm feeling like the brat on the left, quite frankly.

Okay so. It's three days till payday and since I decided to hang with the ex-W all weekend I ended up eating out a lot more than I'd wanted. I had all intentions of cooking large batches of nutritious food, but instead found myself eating the nutritionally void food from 7-Eleven. Also, Ikea. Upon checking my bank balance, I found I have negative money. Also, my extremely expensive birth control (gee, thanks, health insurance for covering twenty bucks of the cost for two months) needed to be refilled, so that was more negative money, and there's only so much pasta I can consume before my hair falls out and Dr. Atkins spins in his cholesterol-riddled grave, so I am going to need to buy food at some point.
Since no free food was in the office, to the point where the community ramen noodles have all been consumed, Kristen and I trekked out to Wendy's for a fine lunch from the dollar menu. Outside Wendy's, a pile of brightly colored paper was on the sidewalk. I didn't think much of it, but then stopped to check it out. It was a large pile of Canadian twenties. A really large pile. I picked some of it up, and another woman picked up a couple twenties.
"What's this?" She asked.
"Canadian money."
"Oh."
We all looked around, holding the money out in the open, looking for anyone who would come up and claim to have lost a large mountain of Canadian Monopoly money.
"This would be worth a lot of American money," the woman said tentatively.
"It would be less," Kristen and I corrected her in unison.
We stood there for a couple of minutes, my eyes twitching back and forth like the Grinch deciding whether he should enjoy the Christmas spirit or keep on running with the goods. It sucks to lose money, and God knows I'd want someone to return it to me. But it's not like it was on the floor of a business where someone would return. A bank was a few feet in either direction, but not a lot of banks dole out Canadian currency. An exchange place was a few blocks up the street. Nobody was looking for money. So the woman took a couple of twenties and Kristen and I, really hungry at this point, went to Wendy's for lunch with the rest of the cash (Canadian).
I thought maybe I should keep the money and look to see if anyone puts an ad on Craigslist, but how does one prove he lost money? He could give the amount, but the woman took some of it with her. It's not like a necklace or a wallet that can be described-- it's unmarked bills sitting on the street. I can take the money to the exchange place and get a pretty good sum of money to get me through the week and thank karma that I found it. But I fear the other shoe dropping on me to wake me up, find my identity stolen and be in even more debt than I already am. If I lost a pile of foreign currency, I'd go looking for it. I don't want any angry Canadians running around this fair city, angry at the lack of hockey and "u"s arbitrarily put into words and the lost money will the last straw, and their politeness will snap and they'll go around saying mean things to people. I don't want that. But I also don't want a big karmic debt and to be a bad person. Right now I'm thinking I'll wait until tomorrow, check Craigslist for a posting, and if I don't hear anything I'll cash it in tomorrow and enjoy a nice dinner of the people of Canada. Thoughts, anyone?