Life Under the Stairs

As a kid, I had a paper route, and I remember the hour every day I spent delivering papers on my bike, in the cold and I remember not getting paid very much. Something that keeps me revved up on this idea is the other paper carrier in the town where I lived. She was a full-fledged adult and was supporting herself completely with her paper route, which easily had over a hundred recipients. I had driven by her house, and she lived in a tiny little place, but it keeps me thinking, “Is such a thing possible?” And so on those days where my job(s) are not getting me very much cash, the bills are piling up and I’m flustered with the idea of continuing to live in such a situation I think to myself, “I could always get a paper route.” After I check into it a little, I nearly always vote nay to that decision and I continue on my merry way wondering if this will be the day that I either strike it rich or find myself sitting in the gutter, eating dirt and talking to the neighborhood cats. I’m slightly agoraphobic, and I think it would be hard to live on the street, since confining myself to a cardboard box might be a touch stifling. At least a paper route would allow me to make my insurance payments on my car, so I could live there. It also wouldn’t be much of a commute from my bed, first thing in the morning. In the cold.

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