Quitting my job means quitting my insurance.
My boy’s boss has a wife. The wife is from Portugal. They got court-house married because that one piece of paper saved them from so, so many more.
It’s easy to get married. In New York, it costs $40. Forty dollars is such a deal on insurance for forever.
I can’t believe we are having this conversation. But it makes sense, and we wouldn’t even have to tell anyone. It seems like a good idea for about ninety seconds until we realize that it is just too practical.