Here’s the laziest—and smartest—move: automatic payments. You set it once, and the money leaves your account like a ghost. It’s beautiful, until the one time your account is low and you get an overdraft fee that costs more than the water itself. I call that the “Oops, I bought tacos” tax. But honestly, auto-pay is for people who respect their future selves. Just keep an eye on your checking account, or you might accidentally pay for the entire neighborhood’s sprinkler system.
My Favorite Hiccup
Last year, I tried to pay by phone. The automated system asked me to “say your account number.” I yelled it, but the robot thought I said “pickles.” It then asked me if I wanted to “enroll in pickle billing.” I hung up. I drove to the utility office instead, where a nice lady named Carol took my cash and gave me a sticker that said “I’m all paid up!” It was the best sticker I’ve ever earned, and I put it on my fridge next to my kid’s macaroni art.
