We bonded, John and I, over a short-term disability plan.
Then we moved on to accident policies and cancer family coverage.
By the time Hubs discovered us, John and I were engrossed in a comparison of all our various relatives who learned too late the importance of abundant insurance.
"Um ... what exactly are we signing up for here?" Hubs inquired.
Translation: What bizarre disease or worst-case scenario have you fixated on now, you hopeless, neurotic hypochondriac?"
I lovingly slid the glossy brochures across the table. "See? If we get this and this and this and this, I promise to quit nagging you about additional life insurance."
Hubs grimaced.
"What are the rates?" he asked my new bestest friend.
As John began to explain our many options, my dear spouse shot me a look.
Translation: I knew I never should have let you attend an insurance sales pitch unsupervised.
The proposed changes to our plan remain a matter of negotiation. No problem. I have BFF John's phone number and email address. We can resume our morbid imaginings at any time, with or without Hubs' approval. John nods sagely when I describe all my what-ifs. He doesn't mock me. No indeed. He loves my adorable paranoid tendencies.
And of course, the glowing red letters stamped across my forehead: Sell me a policy, baby.
John isn't my only new friend this week.
Yesterday, I met Cindy, a no-nonsense grandmotherly-looking type who strode into a small private room at the gym and asked, "So, what seems to be the problem?"
I told her all about my horrible headaches -- possibly tension (or a brain tumor ... or meningitis ... or encephalitis) -- that have accompanied The Mono.
She nodded sympathetically and asked me for more details. Naturally, since I'm married to a man who snorts when I describe my various ailments, I was ever so happy to oblige.
And then Cindy went to work. She did things to my head, shoulders and back that...
... well, let's just say I want to take Cindy home and install her in my bedroom so that she can pummel me to sleep each night.
I think I love her.
Maybe even more than John.
12 comments:
That is the most entertaining thing I've ever read about insurance. And now you've made me want a massage - but only one done by a licensed professional, I'm too tired for the husband massage at the moment.
Oh that is so well written!!
May I borrow Cindy for a coupla hours? Promise to return her.
I love that as a SAHM, I should have insurance coverage for well over $138,000 (on MSNBC), since it would cost husband that much to replace a child care worker, cook, housekeeper, and psycologist, to do thing that I don't even do!! Maybe I should talk to John about that.
LOL. I had no idea how "easy" you are. Now, you've posted this on-line. Salesmen will come out of the woodworks to find you. Aren't you paranoid about that?
Great writing, girl. And, now I oh so want a massage...
Hey! I'm a neurotic hypochondriac! I need friends like this.
Oooh, the power of a good massage. I used to get them once a month during the last half of my pregnancy. I wanted to propose to my masseuse. Really. She was that good.
How are the headaches? Hope you're feeling better!!!!!
Never has being pummeled to sleep sounded so appealing.
Ooooh Cindy...you might have competition there my friend!
I am also all into insurance while mus husband believes in something about mitigating risk versus benefits or some such.
Love this (as always)!
Julie
Ravin' Picture Maven
I always wondered why they call life insurance life insurance. It should be death insurance. Health insurance should be sick insurance.
I think I'll start writing "death insurance" in the memo of my check when I pay the quarterly bill tomorrow.
Chiropractors and massage therapist can work wonders on headaches. I thought I was beginning to have "allergies". Um, no. Just an out of whack spine. No kidding.
Great post!
Do you watch House? LOL! I'm sorry about the headaches. I hope you feel better soon. Are you willing to share Cindy?
There's nothing quite like spending quality time with good friends who really "get you." ;)
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