Month End of Time

The end of the month is always stressful for me. I am always broke, never fully up on food,always owing someone or something. Granted it has been worse for me, but the fact more people have helped me does not lower the stress level because I am not in the forest, which costs me more in money and health because I have not been able to lay down and my feet and ankles are very swollen. I was able to get some white bread, jam and peanut butter to the young homeless fellow I have written about. It does feel good I could share some food with someone. One question I have noticed is the number of homeless people that smoke tobacco. I understand a need to occupy your hands and do something, but smoking costs a lot of money. So does drinking alcohol. I don’t do either, by choice, and before I became homeless. I quit smoking cigarettes when they went to a dollar a pack in the machine, some thirty five years ago. I rarely will drink a craft beer, again before I became homeless. If you drink and smoke while homeless you are basically a bum. I worry about perception, because loss enters into the end perception. I dislike fitting my own image of a bum. Add dirty clothing and I fit what, as a child I was taught was a failed life. Granted being homeless is a sign of a problem, but since I do not drink, smoke or do non medical drugs how am I a failure? It’s society as a whole that has failed me. I will be 70 in 66 days or so, and this life is not what I had planned. I planned on living off East Bay Drive until I died. I miscalculated O. C. Stanwood’s lifeline and his dementia. I see that in others now, and probably exhibit it myself to a degree. I know O.C. did not want his relatives to get the point from him or his estate, however that was the only way to stop the tweakers from stealing the property. I knew he had a will, which was never found. I qualified as co-tenant in common except I lacked a tax receipt, and forgot his bank account was not in his name rather in Oregonians for tax relief. Had I not had the particular lacking I could still be housed. Things could be worse but it does not seem so now. Three day countdown began hours ago. I need candy. I need diesel. I need a motorhome. Its what I call the “ineeda” syndrom. I could use things, of course, but when I find I am at the end of the month then I start seeing the grass on the other side of the fence. I need a change. I received a text message, followed by a phone call fron Verizon. I was informed I was $267 past due in my account and need pony up a total of $420 or my phone was to be shut off within 24 hours. Punching the suggested numbers only sent me to automated collection terminals, and what I needed was a human to tell me how my account was past due when I paid my first bill five weeks ago and have not received a bill. I managed to receive an operator after 5 attempts of redialing 611 and punching O repeatedly until the computer waived the white flag and sent me to a human, and after a lengthy wait I explained the problem and she was very nice. She looked at my account, then asked if I had gone online to see my account. Surprise number 1, i have to use a desk computer to access my account. Surprise number 2, Verizon is paperless billing, so now I have to pay extra to receive a bill. Surprise number 3, i pay in advance, so i will be three months behind soon. We went through my account, I explained why I had so much data, because they kept insisting I was using a gigabyte a day, and charging me $20 per gig over my 8 gigs. I explained my usage, she said they must have been talking about my 2 gigs of free lifetime use. So she lowered my plan from 15 to 12 gigs, lowering my bill $20, and explained my bill costs. I guess my bill is $160 a month for phone and tablet. That is $50 a month insurance and phone payment. So next month is spent before it gets here. Fuck. Live and learn. I explained how AT&T and I parted ways, and she was surprised, until I reminded her the same insurance company was what her Company uses, and I paid half what I do with Verizon. Sigh. With this massive payment I will be 4 months into my 24 month contract. I can hardly wait. I will see you all later.

Author: gary

I am a retired paralegal private investigator. I live in southeast Missouri, USA. I am 74 years old and have been a hippie since 1967. Peace out

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