This afternoon, a letter came for me in the mail.  It came for me the way the Grim Reaper comes for lives.  A brief moment passed, when I saw my name on the address, in which I thought it might be from Harvey, but inside the envelope was a notification for an outstanding bill.  The news itself was far from outstanding.  It was a reminder of bad choices made, a knock from the past, like a divorce settlement that needs a signature at the tab along with several grand to pay off the lawyer.
      Back in Boston, I had owned a credit card and used it, after my interview for the hostess position, to fuel a prodigal shopping spree.  Aldo's comment about my deficient wardrobe made me panic, and when I left the meeting I headed straight for the boutiques on Newbury Street.  I had signed up for the credit card account a week prior, upon my dad's request.  He said it was necessary for emergencies.  Well, he was right about it being useful.  I needed a black dress for my first day as hostess, and I didn't have the money for it.  On a rack at Loft, I found the perfect one, but its short hem made me realize that the only shoes I owned which weren't made of mesh were tall boots--too trendy for a fine dining environment.  So, the credit card bought me a pair of flats to go along with the dress.  Then, since all of my socks were white ankle tops, I added two pairs of tights to my bill.  And what would I do about my outfit the day after tomorrow?  Aldo had high hopes that I wouldn't exhaust him with the same dress everyday; I had no choice but to pick out more clothes--some skirt and blouse combos.  After clothes shopping, I went to the Verizon store and bought an iPhone.  The GPS and streaming transportation updates would prove invaluable, since this new job required a timely commute.  Of course, I assumed that by the time the purchases needed to be paid off, my savings account would be growing like a feeding newborn.
       Now here I am with debt the size of a hole to China.  And the longer I wait, the more I will have to pay.  Even money for food proves increasingly difficult to muster up.  The condiments in the fridge are looking pretty lonely.