It has been quite a day. This morning I spent some time on the phone withe a gentleman from Citibank, they call 5-6 times a day as I am about to default on a private student loan. Jackals. As these loans are not discharged by disability, insanity, bankruptcy, only in my death will this loan be discharged. I asked him what the results of default were, and he explained that the loan would be handed over to a shadowy guarantor, who would pay off Citibank and then go about getting the money from me themselves.
It was at this point that I began to lose control. Or perhaps to gain it, to ask the questions I had been wondering all along. "So, is a man with an axe going to show up at my door? Are you involved with the mafia? Will I get to keep my hands? My feet? My kidneys? Do they still have debtors prisons? Workhouses? Will they actually take the pound of flesh? Can I decide which pound? Should I install a security system, of course, wait, i can't afford that...oh, I see, I thought I was being monitored for quite awhile now, I have been being investigated, haven't I. Well, you know where to find me. Can I at least decide which hand goes first?"
"That's ludicrous" The man on the phone said. "We don't take physical punishment as payment.
"Oh you don't, huh? Oh, okay, so what's going to happen?"
"Well, first the guarantor will have to gain a judgment against you by suing you."
"You're going to sue a mentally ill, disabled woman. You're angels."
"We'll, maybe they'll sue the cosigner."
"Even better. Well, thanks for calling, I'll be sure to keep all this in mind."
I hung up.
They didn't call again for the rest of the day. What blissful silence. I spent the rest of the day filling in missing scenes in Chapter 9, the page count now around 210.