Going through a week’s worth of mail last night, I came across a letter from “Les Cardiologues Associés,” which I guess is the cardiologists’ association from the Heart Institute. Looking at the envelope, I’m figuring it’s a letter of congrats for being such a studmuffin (hey, I can dream, can’t I?), or, you know, a letter of thanks for volunteering for experimental drug tests that might help others live longer lives.
I was wrong. Inside the envelope is a bill. For $25. That I owe to a certain cardiologist. For whom I volunteered as a guinea pig.
And why do I owe this $25? Because the Régie de l’assurance automobile required that he give his signature on a form for my driver’s license.
Twenty-five dollars. I’m thinking of paying it in rolls of pennies. Because if it’s that important to him, I’m sure he’ll take it any way he can.