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All bills become due just as your eyes finally close, after your body gives up the ache of furniture moving the entire month of October, early snow falling on your scraped knuckles, no more sure footing anywhere in the near future.

IRS paid late, two weeks past due on the past due payment; due on the 15th without fail; second and third school loans, paying off the license used for almost a decade before giving up the ghost, due on the 28th, only a day late, only a couple dollars short, no harm done, one supposes. Credit cards due in a week, and a demand for money for medical services rendered, though insurance should have paid it but didn’t, leaving the burden of proof to the recipient, sad man with a bad heart, to show he’d had coverage before he filed the claim.

Paperwork.  It’s all just paperwork; but it looms up, real, when most you need it least. All you need, really, is the good night’s sleep, dreamless and babe-like; but no— the sudden realization of money either keeps you awake or haunts your fitful sleep. 

The debt, a terrible nightmarish ogre, keeps you running for the mailbox on marshmallow sidewalks all night long, your progress toward self-sufficiency thwarted at every turn by the threat of cardboard boxes containing everything you own; the undeniable reality that what has gone in last rarely needs to come out first.

And of course in the morning, not that it really matters, you can’t find your checkbook.


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Marshmallow sidewalks....Ron,

Marshmallow sidewalks....Ron, this piece is very strong and quite pertinent to Irish society at the moment. Thanks. m

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Right on the nose, Ron.  

Right on the nose, Ron.