I was sleeping in the back bedroom on Washtenaw with Delilah, who had snuggled into bed with me having been awakened by a thunderstorm.
I woke up some time later after hearing a noise at front of the house.
I walked over ot the front door, opened it and noticed the roof had collapsed in the stairwell.
Hearing voices and what seemed to be a bit of commotion coming from the street below, I put my overcoat on over my pajamas and walked down the back stairs and around to the street to see what was going on.
I was quickly approached by two city workers in coveralls, a man and a woman, driving a small electric vehicle they had maneuvered up onto the sidewalk.
They asked my name and opened a folder and pulled out an old wrinkled document and said before they could help me with my claim regarding the storm damage, I would have to pay the tax on the receipt they held in front of me written in my own handwriting except for Harriet’s name which was written in blue ink in her handwriting.
The receipt was for the sale of a used television I sold to my childhood friend---and onetime girlfriend---Harriet Karzen, in 1995 for 95 dollars and the agents said I owed back interest as well that must be paid in short order, seeing how so many years had passed since the date of the original transaction.
After a long drawn out discussion, I told the agents I would refuse to pay and walked back home as the agents stood there on the sidewalk in dismay at my transgression.
Back upstairs, Delilah and I sat down at the computer as I explained to her how interest works by showing her an example of buying a car with a payment plan.
Then I woke up.
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