Free Stuff

The wooden rail around the deck is capped with a ridge of fresh snow. Our deck now lays hidden beneath an uneven white blanket, while flower pots rest in their wind-swept craters. The dead flowers look so lovely.

It’s a snow day in Northern Illinois. The school called early, so the house is filled now with sounds of telephone conversations and video games. David has had the television going since nine. The adventures of Clifford the Big Red Dog follows George Shrinks. His name reminds me of a chiropractor I used to visit; a helpful Dr. Stretch. I remember another man that fired me long ago whose last name was Hatchet.

Ali busies herself searching the net for new phone plans. One that is free, I ask? Not only free, they pay me a rebate after three months of use, she says. Now tell me there is no free lunch. But first, let me go make a sandwich.