I came home from work today feeling rather snappy. I had spent some time adding up the funds in my New York Account, watching it slowly grow. Then while driving home I lazily daydreamed about the day I get to move into my NYC apartment and fall asleep to the sounds of sirens and big city life instead of crickets and lawn mowers.
I walk in the house with my ten dollars worth of groceries ready to make a delectable BLT on garlic Parmesan bread accompanied by homemade potato crisps, followed by trashy reality TV and a leisurely walk. Some nasty shit is about to hit the fan, however... not sure if you could smell it coming.
I carry in my pile of bills along with my groceries and start opening one piece of mail as I pre-heat the oven and dig for a saucepan. As I scan the words, I stop what I am doing and march to the table to locate my phone. I furiously dial the number on the slip of paper I am holding, while deep, dark fury churns like home-made butter in my gut.
"Hi, I can't pay this entire $1200. That's why I was on a payment plan, of $100 a month, so I will continue paying that thank you very much."
"Okay, that's fine," the man says, "we can continue the payment plan, but if you don't pay the entire $1200 in 45 days this will affect your credit score."
"45 days?! If I had $1200 in 45 days don't you think I'd give it to you! I work two jobs! I have other bills, medical, student loans, a car payment, insurance, credit cards. I would LOVE to give you $1200 but I will not have that in 45 days."
"Okay, well we can set up the payment plan for you then."
"And it won't affect my credit score if I am still on the plan?"
"No, unless the balance is paid in 45 days it still will."
Fucking fantastic. I hang up the phone feeling sick and no longer hungry. I shut off the oven, put the saucepan away and start feverishly opening the rest of my bills only to start feeling worse and worse about my financial situation.
Once I look everything over, plot, stew and ruminate, I call my mother twice. She always answers but isn't picking up this time. So I do the only thing I can think of in such an abysmal situation: curl up in my bed in the fetal position and whimper until my mom calls me back.
I contemplate the ways to fix this problem and they are as follows:
-Cash out NYC Savings Fund altogether to pay heinous bills and admit defeat that I will ever achieve my dreams
-Get a job at some early morning fishery to earn extra income--they're always doing that in the movies and it seems to make things better
-Jump off the nearest bridge... until I realize I won't be able to afford the medical/psychiatric bill (joke!)
None of these options sound particularly enticing, so I continue to wallow until I hear my phone ring. Mom.
I barely make out the words, "Are you busy right now?" before I am sobbing that I will always be a pauper who can't even afford to shop at Goodwill anymore.
Being my mother, she immediately puts the band-aid on my festering financial wounds. She then tells me I better not touch my New York Account because things will get better.
I believe her, because I always believe my mom.
As I get out my last sniffles of self-pity, I ask her when my ship is going to come in?
"Oh, I know your ship is coming, Kiddo. It may be slow, but I have no doubts about your ship... I may have given up on mine, but I am certain yours is coming."
I come to the conclusion that she is right. My ship is clearly lost in a dense fog somewhere near the Adriatic Sea, but it is well equipped with compasses and sexy sailors who can read the stars, that's what I've decided; so they'll be here eventually.
So guess what you nasty, rude bill collectors? J.K. Rowling was in the pits of poverty before she unleashed Harry Potter on the world. So just you wait until my book gets published! You will rue the day! Or something like that.
