My partner and I both had birthdays of our respective ’round numbers’ during the last year, so we have been celebrating these mid-century markers with the requisite amusement park assortment of medical inspections, tune-ups and treatments and oh, boy, is it a great way to spray the contents out of the wallet as though it were really a fire hose. Switching to a different health insurance system on our move here, after having nearly learned the byzantine ways of our longtime previous HMO, is enough of a culture shock, but when plunging into the ocean of middle age’s preventive care delights it’s more of a sea change, even a paradigm shift. Maybe simply a parallel universe.

Whatever it is, I’ve decided that the only way to keep from fainting when looking at the speed-bleed of hard-earned moolah is to follow our traditional M.O. when traveling, which is to set aside what we’re planning to live on while abroad, convert to the local foreign currency, and pretend it’s all Monopoly money until done. Somehow it seems less painful, and in this instance, since various of the medical adventures do require anesthesia of varying kinds, yet the health care providers we’ve seen thus far seem unwilling to oblige us with a nice happy twilight drug when administering their bills, might as well pretend it’s all pretend, eh?

When it hurts too much to cry anymore, might as well laugh . . .

Meanwhile, that’s my cue to keep up with scouring the employment listings and perhaps consider whether there’s anything valuable I’ve forgotten I own that I’d like to be selling off just about now. And no, HIM I’m keeping, so put your bullion away for a minute and let me contemplate.