Some of the following is paraphrased.
Me (going through mail, hands letter addressed to husband): Here, something from the physical therapy people for you.
H (after reading letter): They don’t have my secondary insurance listed and are informing me they will bill me directly for the balance of my treatment. Guess I’ll have to call them. That means I’ll be on the phone for the next hour. Idiots.
H (fishes group insurance card from his pocket, disappears into den, returns only 10 minutes later but clearly annoyed as if it had been an hour): They had it. I knew it. Idiots.
H (pauses, holds out secondary insurance card): Why isn’t my name on this card instead of yours?
Me: Because the insurance is provided through my employer. If you were the employee, your name would be on the card.
H (still annoyed, looks at card, then at me): Then how does anyone I give this card to know it’s me?
Me: Because when they look it up, the policy lists you as Spouse.
H: That’s not right. It should have my name on it.
Me: (Here’s where, if I were wearing glasses, I would have peered over them with a look I imagine Nancy Pelosi might give. Instead, I gaze off into the distance, picturing the first credit card I ever earned.)
It was beige with dark raised lettering that read
Mrs. [husband’s full name]
Me: (Half smiles): Yeah, I guess.