Bills, Bills, Bills

For those of us who can't, don't or just won't pay their annual property tax bills in one horrific lump sum when it arrives in the spring, the deadline for getting that dreaded second installment to the county collector looms large.

I just paid, less than three months ago, and it was a lot. But they want more. They all want more---governments, schools, pensions. So many taxing bodies that want a piece of the pie.

And while I fully recognize and understand why we need to pay property taxes, each time I pay them I can't stop thinking how I could have used that money for something tangible, like an African safari.

If we didn't have to pay taxes (there is such a thing, but it's usually accompanied by prison time) we'd all just be using that money to pay another bill, so many bills.

Bills, bills, bills.

What else do I do with my income besides pay bills? Not a whole lot unless I count my raging obsession with new beauty products.

Whether or not you have dependents, I don't believe there is such a thing as "disposable income" unless your last name is Kardashian.

Mine is Sykora, at least that's the name I signed on the check to the county collector late last night after almost, and quite unimaginably, forgetting I needed to get that sucker in the mail.

All the while, that wonderfully cheeky Beatles song was playing in my head. It's one us little people know well.

Thanks, George. I'll never be laughing all the way to the bank, but I'll have a song to sing on my way to the post office.