Way back when Larry and I first got married, we (very quickly) realized there was no way we could collaborate on balancing a checkbook (or on anything else for that matter) (um, aside from the obvious). So I took over the finances and handily saw us through some very lean times. I paid all the bills, oversaw the food budget, bought the clothes...In short, I was the family CFO. But after 10 years of superb financial management, we acquired something new - dental insurance.
What can I say? That insurance company brought this financial maven to her knees. And Larry didn't have a clue until he noticed letters from that nefarious organization piling up unopened. We started having conversations like this:
What's this? he'd ask, waving a fistful of sealed envelopes.
Oh, I don't know, I'd say, vaguely.
Shouldn't you open them?
No! No, don't do that! It's...it's...horrible...I pay them and I pay them...
Maybe you should call someone and straighten things out.
I tried! The baby cried during the voicemail options and I had to call again, and then another kid fell and bumped her head, and...and... it's just not worth it. It just has to go away.
So, manly man that he is, Larry called and figured things out and impressed me so much with his financial savoir-faire that I dumped all the household finances in his lap. Now he does the macro and I do the micro (food, clothing, yarn) and everyone is happy, happy, happy.
Or we were, until about a year ago, when we had to switch to a new dental insurance...
Things were okay at first; but then I noticed dental claim forms piling up around the house. I did my best to ignore the threatening stacks of paper, although I couldn't help but fear that Larry's financial management skills would be felled by the same monster as had cut me down in my fiscal prime. And then who would manage the family finances?
Anna, maybe? But, no - she would just sign all the paychecks directly over to Kohl's. I started imagining us all homeless and hungry, but well dressed.
Well, disaster, I am glad to say, has been averted. Larry, after 2 and a half hours on the phone this morning with 2 dental offices and 3 (count them, three) insurance companies, emerged smiling and victorious. And now we won't be forced to live in our van in the Kohl's parking lot.
The End (I hope)