The electricity bill popped into his inbox just as he was paying the annual termite protection bill, which was $469.26.
$148.34 for electricity. When he’d retired, his monthly bill had been in the $90 range, give or take. Now it hovered around $150.
This month, on top of the annual cost for termite protection, he’d paid the annual homeowner’s insurance premium, $1537.48, and the mandatory annual hurricane insurance premium as well, $4909.72. He still couldn’t understand why the hurricane premium was more than three times as high as the homeowner’s.
$3708.47, the semiannual property tax bill needed to be paid at the end of the month. Again, he’d have to put that on his charge card, as well as the monthly $335.00 car payment.
Fortunately, the car insurance premium, $568.33, also paid twice a year, had been covered the month before. If it had been due this month, that would have been another one he’d have to charge.
His mother used to joke about buying fast food with a charge card. “You’ll end up paying for that Big Mac, the KFC, and that Domino’s pizza for years.”
He looked at the unopened bills for his cellphone and the internet company. Those were always the same, thank goodness, but the water bill, also eyeing him from behind its little plastic window, always went up. It would do so for the next three years, with a projected cost at the end to be 250% more than he was paying now.
When he’d retired, nine years earlier, his monthly pension and social security had been enough to cover all his bills, and what remained had allowed him to travel.
Now there was no travel. He’d bought a carton of ramen noodles at Costco. It was like being back in college.
Funny, that’s what he’d told people early on in his retirement. That it was like being back in college except that there were no papers, no required reading, and no classes. Now he’d started to eat like a college student short on cash.
“Best job ever,” he’d often joked. And now, he’d had to leave that great retirement job and go back to work. Part-time, so far. Temp jobs with Altres and substitute teaching for the Department of Education’s public school circuit.
His body and mind had shifted gears once he’d left the daily grind, and it was difficult to get into long hours again. Some days he’d crawl home and drop into bed. The next thing he knew, it was time to get up and see if any jobs were waiting for him on his phone.
This morning there were none. That was both good and bad. Good because he was always tired these days and liked the break. Bad because he needed the money.
He never ate breakfast these days. Sitting down with his morning cup of coffee, he flipped on the TV. News. What was going on in the real world?
“And in his first two weeks, he’s done everything he could to actually increase the price of eggs – or ‘grocery’, as he often calls the food we put on our tables that he promised would become cheaper if he were elected.”
He could hear him: Grocery? What grocery? Bigger things, terrible things are happening in the Middle East places. It’s awful. Bloody, and dying, and people living under rubble. So dangerous. A war zone and shooting and bombs. Forget grocery, America. I will move all those people, the poor suffering people to other countries. I’ll tell those countries to take them, make a place, a nice, nice place, it will be incredible, incredible, and so good, a beautiful place, I’m not kidding, it will be like a Riviera, Gaza. And we’ll own Gaza. And there will be thousands and thousands of jobs for everyone in the beautiful place I’ll make.
Not our groceries. Not our jobs. Not fixing up our country.
He sipped his coffee. Today it tasted bitter.
Vote for me. It’s all about your grocery with me. The price of eggs will go down if you vote for me.
Lanning Lee 