I was just sitting with my head on my desk, sideways and flat with my cheek against the fake wood, because the insurance bill came with the wrong amounts again. Because our broker never emailed me the info about insurance subsidies, because I can’t order new computers online because I have to specially request Windows XP, because now I have to call Dell on the telephone, because the phone system is fucked fucked fucked and I don’t even know who to call about that, because KC keeps coming in here and asking us questions, because I just read this story, because the coke that Dawn bought me at McDonalds is too sweet, but mostly because if the insurance amounts on the bill are wrong because insurance is actually going to cost that much then I can’t afford it and will be without health insurance.

I didn’t pick my head off the desk but looked at Dawn and yelled, “my roommate only has to pay five dollars a month for health insurance and she has the summer off! Why didn’t I go to school for education?”

She picked her own head up off the desk and looked at me. “Because you wanted to be a poet.”