I could complain about them because something just hit me. Every month the bills come, and every month I pay them. But that wasn't what hit me this morning. What made me happy was that every month the bill collectors knew exactly where to find me. I know the neighbors may have thought I lost my mind, but I haven't.
As I collected the envelopes from the freshly cut grass and walked toward the door of where I live, I smiled. Bills are good, I thought. Bills are good. My grandfather told me that once but I have thought of it since he died.
I never thought of it this way before and I'm grateful for my blessings because next month when I see those bills I'll remember....
I'm not homeless.
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