I Just Live Here
No, Really. Irreplacable

Irreplacable

I went through the stack of bills on my desk this afternoon and paused as I considered the annual premium payment for my life insurance policy. Then I trotted into Steve's office for a consult.

"As I recall," I said, "we originally took out this policy to enable you to pay for a full-time nanny and to hire Taylor Swift to play my funeral. But, honestly, the Red Hot Chili Pipers will be fine - just what I would have wanted - and with the kids in school all day and you home pretty much always I think your nanny might begin to wonder why you hired her... and then sue you.

So, should we let this lapse?"

But Steve said, "No no, we got a good rate on that, didn't we, and, well, you never know."

I thought about it and said, "Oh right. I guess the insurance money could go toward college for the... ."

Steve cut in, "Pay off the mortgage. That'd be nice. Invest it. Oh! Do some work on the master bathroom! I... ."

Then he realized that he was getting a little enthusiastic about a windfall which is predicated upon my untimely demise and added, "I mean, don't go anywhere! But, yeah, pay it."

So I went back to my desk and tucked the bill into my To Be Paid toast rack but I have to admit I was a little... demoralized. Just a few years ago Steve was going to have to pay some significant coin to replace my contributions to our domestic economy; what with the live-in nanny and a maid service and - most likely - a monkey butler, but now my trade-in value is on par with a non-essential home improvement. 

In Eternity's Swap Meet I could be converted into a couple of heated towel racks and a shower door that doesn't leak at the bottom.

Like I said, demoralizing. 

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