There are no five more dreaded words to the self-employed than “the check’s in the mail.”
“I will always love you”, “It’s not you, it’s me”, even “your house is on fire” pale in comparison. Because let’s face it, without that cash, that dough, that moola, you’re not going to get a girl who will eventually dump you nor are you going to have the money for a mortgage.
The Long Walk
It is sad when you are desperately waiting for checks to pay that next bill. When you know exactly when the mailman comes every day. When you look out your third floor fire escape to see if you can see him and his little push cart coming down the street.
It is a long walk, second only to the one-night stand walk of shame, to go see if you have that check, indeed, in the mail. You walk with your fingers crossed, slowly, because there will be either supreme relief or possible depression waiting for you. You insert the key, turn the lock, and YES. There it is, the envelope you’ve been waiting for. F%$K! It’s not a check, it’s another advertisement for Charter Communications this time hidden in an envelope to make it look like it’s not junk mail.
Fine. Ramen noodles it is. Thanks mailbox, thanks mailman*, thanks for nothing. Until tomorrow. I hope these fingers are uncross in time, cause I squeezed them too hard.
*Mailmen don’t find it funny when you choke them to see if their tongue comes out like Bart Simpson’s does when Homer chokes them. They also don’t realize you’re doing a comic parody.