And So On

Like a sleepwalker seeking an unpublished book of dream interpretations on the empty shelves in the endless aisles of a defunct library, I'm trying to figure out my gas bill. What are all these obscure itemized charges? It would be easier to decipher the costs for Pharaonic embalming preserved in faint hieroglyphs on broken slates in the deepest recesses of a stygian pyramid by flickering torch-light. But, like the sacrifice demanded by a non-existent God for forgotten sins of the past committed by somebody else, the bill must still be paid in full. Otherwise, like a crippled Starship trapped by the paralyzing tractor a malevolent satellite's tractor beam, I will lose power. Fortunately, all I have to do is go Online and pay with my stored credit card, which is easy. Not quite like Sunday morning but definitely Sabbath-ish around noon. Before the Internet, to pay any type of bill you'd need to write out a check and mail it off, and that meant finding a first-class stamp in your desk drawer, which was like a sleepwalker seeking an unpublished book of dream interpretations on the empty shelves in the endless aisles of a defunct library. And so on.