The Envelope

It’s been sitting in my work mailbox since Tuesday. I know exactly what it is, and I don’t want it.

It’s a bill for pump supplies that I’ve long since used up. Due to some insurance confusion, the last batch of supplies that this company sent to me wasn’t covered, and now I need to pay for it. I’ve spent several phone calls trying to get said confusion cleared up, but to no avail. I need to pay it.

I feel bad that it’s been sitting there for two days. I feel bad that I’ve ignored it every time I run to the kitchen for a Diet Coke or a plastic spoon. I feel bad that my poor husband has to help finance my mechanical pancreas and all of its accoutrements. I feel bad that that stupid envelope exists at all.

Stupid envelope.