You’re down and out. Maybe you still lived at home (at 37), mainlined heroin in your parents’ bedroom, and threw up all over the Tibetan-Armenian-Persian-Turkish silk artisan carpeting one too many times, so they tossed you, your Playstation Moon-Ray 6, and your Hitachi 184-inch HDTV out on Park Avenue. Maybe you’ve blown your life savings on BINGO!, LOTTO!, nickel slots, senior lap-dance nights, and several emails from someone claiming to represent the Nigerian government (after all, they can’t ALL be spammers!) and can no longer afford your to-die-for (really) one-bedroom flat in that posh “retirement community.” Maybe your deadbeat husband...