“Me? Buy the business? I can’t even afford to pay my electricity bill"
Bills, bills, bills. It seemed like that was all Miri and I ever talked about.
It wasn’t always like this. I vaguely remembered that we used to spend time together talking about the kids, interesting customers I came across, and the latest family news. But ever since Miri went back to work after her last maternity leave, and with my increasingly longer hours at the warehouse, we barely had a chance to breathe, let alone a quiet hour to sit and talk. Our evenings were a hectic marathon of baths-bed-supper-baby, with Miri often heading back to the computer to clock in the rest of her hours, and me dashing out to catch a Maariv.
But we spoke about the bills, because they were urgent and in our face, one plain, forbidding envelope after the next: electricity, gas, tuition, credit card. There was the account at the grocery and new shoes for the boys and rent. Every night, it seemed, there was another crisis, another reason to frantically search through our dwindling accounts to try and scrape together the next payment.
“This is crazy,” Miri said to me one night. “We’re working and working and working, and we’re still drowning in these bills! How can life cost so much?!”
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