LATE

Today I got two awesome letters in the mail. One informed me I’m late on a payment. The other informed me that I’m late on a payment, and they’ve decided to tack on a late fee.

Lovely.

So let me get this straight.

My mortgage company decides to sell my mortgage to another company, thereby invalidating my monthly I’m-never-late-because-it’s-automatic withdrawal—which they did warn me about in some letter six or so weeks ago—which I didn’t read because it was in my to-read pile—which I didn’t find until yesterday—and now I’m responsible?

Apparently.

And I’m supposed to renew my vehicle registration every single year? Seriously? Every year? On time? I am supposed to remember this? Ok, yes, so they sent me a form. But I am supposed to keep track of that form? And mail it in on time?

Yeah like that’s gonna happen.

I mean, I know there are a lot of people with more on their plates than me, but my brain is firing all (six?) cylinders to keep up with my couple of children and all of their appointments, and nutrition, and developmental stages, and clean socks, and needs. Not to mention a few clients and their needs. And possibly a house with a couple needs. Oh and maybe a couple needs of my own too.

I’m just saying. With this girl, if you ain’t on auto-pay, you ain’t getting paid, babe. Not because I want to break your heart, just because you will get lost in the shuffle. Sorry, bills.

Ahhh, auto-pay. I thank the good Lord in heaven that I live in the age of this technological breakthrough. Because of auto-pay, I haven’t had a late payment in… well, I guess about five minutes. But before now, it was a looooong time.

And, sure enough, the only two bills that weren’t on auto-pay are also the only two late. Grrrrrr.

Oh, and perhaps I should mention that possibly there’s one other thing that might be on the verge of just being the teensiest bit late over here. Which is making the rest of this all the more irritating. What is it Miss Sarah has told me about this before? Oh yeah. Now probably wouldn’t be a good time to be making meaning out of anything.

Ok. So I’ll try not to turn the late notices I just opened into a statement about who I am and what I’m capable of.

Instead, I’m going to attempt to go to bed:  And, for once,

not.

too.

late.

by julie rybarczyk