"God is laughing while we're making plans. Remember that one." That came today in an email from a friend of mine. Remember it? I'm reminded of it every damn moment I'm alive.

Today I'm also thinking that the corollary to that is: God works for the IRS. I just got back from H&R Block and, apparently, the IRS doesn't care if you don't have any money this year, you still have to pay taxes on what you made last year.

And, as if that's not enough, to top off everything else, now they've shut off the cable. I swear, I never meant to be a cable thief, it just sort of worked out that way. God either works for the IRS or for the cable company. Either way, s/he's got a sick sense of humor.

You see, it all started about three years ago, when my wife and I moved into this apartment. While I was setting up the TV I saw a cable there in the living room. I wasn't sure if it was for cable TV or if it was to an antennae. So, I plugged it into the back of the TV. Turns out it was cable, and it was already turned on.

So, being an honest kind of guy, I called the local cable company and asked if they could change the account to put it in my name.

The woman on the other end of the line said they'd have to make an installation appointment, requiring one of us to be home, waiting, from 8 AM to 6 PM, on the appointed day. And there'd be a charge of $45 for the privilege of wasting our time.

I said, "No need for that, it's already installed. The previous tenant must have forgotten to call you to shut it off. I don't have the time, money, or need for an installer. Just find the account, and put it in my name so I can pay the bill."

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm looking at the account now, and there's no cable in that apartment."

"Look. Right now, as we speak, I'm watching VH1. I just turned off CNN. I've got cable. But if you send the bill to the previous tenant, it will be forwarded, nobody will pay it, then you'll come next month and shut it off. I don't want that to happen. But I don't need an installation. I only need you to put the bill in my name."

"You can't be watching VH1: There's no cable hooked up there. Now, I can schedule you for a week from Thursday. Will that work for you?"

"You know, I've changed my mind. I don't really need cable."

At the time I really had every intention of calling back at another time and trying again to do the right thing. Then time passed. Then the local cable company went out of business (big surprise) and was bought out by AT&T.

That reminded me that we had never gotten around to 'fessing up to having cable. But for some strange reason, I didn't feel so bad about ripping off AT&T. Still, I made a mental note to call them up and try again. Really, I meant to.

Well, this past Saturday morning, at 8:45 AM, there's a knock at the door. It's the cable guy. I answered the door in my robe, just out of bed.

"Excuse me," he asked, "but are you an AT&T Cable customer?"

I thought about it a moment. He didn't ask if we "had cable," only if we were "an AT&T Cable customer."

"No, we're not," I answered honestly.

"Thank you," he said and walked away. A half hour later I turned on the TV: Nothing. Without the cable we get nothing.

I went to Radio Shack and bought their best, most expensive, amplified antennae booster. That got us the audio portion of ABC. Radio Shack was very good about the refund. Thank you.

On top of not having any TV and owing the IRS a small fortune, I also no longer have a regular "day job." I'm doing some contract work for my former employer, and trying to do some writing with the days I'm staying at home. Which means, of course, that I'm broke. No money now to pay for cable.

Now what's the point of being under-employed if I can't watch Judge Judy, Montel, Oprah, and Jenny Jones all day long? Where's the damn justice in that? If I'm sitting home during the day, feeling sorry for myself, I need an endless parade of pregnant, teenage lesbians and their truck-driving, abusive, toothless step-parents/lovers.

I know, I should take the lack of TV as a motivating force to get me to do all that writing I've been talking about. But that's too close to work. I'd rather have something to complain about.

Other than that, everything's fine. Except, of course, for the taxes. "God is laughing while we're making plans." Oh, yeah, I'll remember that one.

p.s. to any FBI agents: This is creative writing. Don't come and bust me now, OK? It's fiction. Yeah, that's it. Fiction. I didn't really steal any cable.