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I hardly drive

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I hardly drive

I will admit it: I am agoraphobic. I hardly drive as a result. In fact, I hardly leave my house. You would be amazed at the relationship I have with the pizza-delivery guy, though. He tells the funniest stories, particularly since he’s a smoker and I always have a pack of the good stuff that I am willing to share.

I need to explain why I am agoraphobic. You see, I have this insurance policy. But, I did not pay the price for a really good policy, that actually covers what I need. I got the basic catastrophe plan that leaves me hunkered down in the house, worried I’m going to catch HIV the second I walk out the door. I have to say that there are some benefits to all this. I am healthy as a horse… who is stuck in a stable all day and night. And, at least I know where I’m going to die. Think of those pitiable fools who die while skydiving or whatever. I will die safe and warm in my 400-square-foot studio apartment.

Look at the poor dog!
Look at the poor dog!

But, back to the driving issue. I have to maintain insurance on my car, while I own it. I cannot drive it, since I cannot leave the house. I guess I could sell it, but then I would have to entertain potential sellers. They are probably all sick and I might get Ebola from one of their snotty children. And, the DMV told me that I have to go there to transfer ownership of the car. They are crazy if they think I am going to risk leaving the house for that.

The good news is that I do not need a life insurance or long-term care policy. No one but the dear pizza-delivery guy will come near me. And I can guarantee that, if they do, I will Lysol them to kingdom come.

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