am waiting for a check to arrive. The check is for $1500. I’m waiting for a few checks, actually, but it’s the $1500 one that gets all my attention. It’s for a story I wrote, approximately 50 years ago, about something or the other. I was so excited when I got the assignment that I ran out and blew a bunch of money. And ever since then, every time I want to rationalize an expense, I think, “Well, I have that $1500 check coming,” so now I’ve spent the whole check twice. That stupid assignment cost me $3000.

I hate waiting. Every trip to the mailbox is like a tragedy in three acts. Imagine me padding down the stairs, barefoot, full of hope, a child on Christmas morning. Imagine me encountering the mailman, who isn’t done yet. Imagine me reading an Us Weekly on the steps while I wait. Don’t mind me, Miss Mailman. I’m fine. Should I call you a mailwoman? Imagine the mailperson rolling her eyes, mentally scrolling through her Christmas bonuses and remembering that mine was not among them. Imagine me flipping through the Us Weekly, pretending to be fascinated by the “Who Wore It Best?” contest, pretending I am not watching each item she stuffs in each slot. Imagine her turning to me, finally. “All yours.” Imagine me walking to the mailbox, heart fluttering now, lifting the lid on my slot. Hear the creak of the old hinges. Imagine me stuffing my hand inside, pulling out rolled up magazines, bills, credit card offers, trash, all trash. Reaching my hand high up in there, wiggling my fingers around, because sometimes mail gets stuck.

Nope, nothing.

A slow walk up the stairs, the feet hitting each step with a sigh. A toss of the mail on the bench beside the door where it will sit, unread, for days.

I hate waiting.

I wouldn’t care if I didn’t need the money. I wouldn’t care if the lack of that check in my life weren’t seriously dampening my style. For instance, I would like some delivery sushi now and again. For instance, I would like some new pillows. I would like to buy stuff, vague and nameless stuff, just go into an H&M and come home with bags of crap I don’t even remember buying. And there was something else I wanted. Oh yes: I would like to pay my bills. I guess I could just charge it all. I hate charging things. But I do have that $1500 check coming. Any day now.