We ATM.
We ATM, ATM, ATM, ATM. Another transaction. Food sustains us from paper, the feeling we get from (about to be) losing it, just before we have to plunk it down. We trade in guilt for cash each time, constant voice in our heads of how we could be scrimping more, how we really do not need this fill in the blank, but if we were really going to look at what we do not need we would not be here. We do not need to live in cities. We do not need to eat out. We do not need to own books or buy clothes when we could write our own and darn our own. None of this is sustainable. None of this is ever quite enough. We do it anyway.