Pay Day.
The allotment given at the end of a two week’s work cannot possibly sum up that which has already passed. After all, the time is done, passed, spent like a few dollars on something to drink, no matter if I spill the thing. There is this lingering promise that exists from an employer and my bank account, for maybe they are both in on some kind of conspiracy. Maybe the bank is also in cahoots with the gas, electric, and insurance companies as well. What if there is no money being traded, the electronic, “transfers” are nothing more than to appease me, when between the large conglomerates they exchange my time. The insurance company for my vehicle alone gets most of my Monday, Tuesday goes towards the cable bill and the grocery store. Wednesday, well that one is dedicated to day care, along with a little bit of Thursday. Then the glorious Friday where the value of hours past 3PM should be double, well, that one I reserve for a personal purchase or two, some kind of incentive to keep me m...