Life, in three acts
The kids were finally in bed, and his wife was doing laundry. Again. He pulled out his checkbook and pulled up his bank account online. Payday was a bittersweet mix of relief and frustration. For a day or two the tension in his head and shoulders would relax, and he enjoyed lunch out rather than days old leftovers. But then it was time to pay the bills.
The bi-weekly ritual was a study in negative cash flow. There never seemed to be enough to go around. The constant juggle of what to pay and what to put off was a tiresome game that brought no joy. But this week things were different. It seemed he had a little extra. He rifled the bills twice, thrice, but everything was paid. He felt lighter.
A text from his wife winked at him: Did you pay for the birthday party yet? "Fuck me."