I should slip him some gingko biloba pills.

Anyway, he was doing his usual belly-aching about bills and money. He also says that he wishes he were back in Jamaica, always wanting to take off and leave us behind. He gets to yammer on and vent, meanwhile I sit silently with my own craptapular thoughts. I was too pre-occupied about Monday's reminder of my unemployed status, my 2 bank accounts totalling 5 bucks. My cellphone expired because I couldn't afford to buy a bank card recently: I can't afford anything! I'd dropped off 2 resumes, one at Wal-Mart ((((shudder)))) and one at Lewis Crafts at Northgate Mall which is as busy as a nude beach on X-mas in the Yukon. I'm applying for jobs I know I hate already, just by feeling it in my bones. I've been unemployed many times, and I'm sick of it. I'm losing sight of my acting ambitions because my part-time job search is getting in the way of that and yada yada yada.

Hours later, we arrive home and I check the mail. One of the 3 bills for me, has a government cheque in it. I'm thinking, great, it's my G.S.T. cheque and I can blow my whopping 50 bucks on my next $10 cellphone card.

I open it up to see $659.50!