Unfinished abstract landscape based on a view of a Chilean Drive.
I had trouble sleeping last night. Didn’t wake until nearly 9 a.m. and got a mosquito bite on the calf while sitting on the edge of the bed. My eyes itched and had a gluey film, so I washed them out at the sink. I looked like I’d been in a fight. Stumbled to the living room and found Judy up-and-at-’em. I told her that I’d run the tax forms to the post office and pick up her prescription before we tackled setting up a new health insurance account for me. I graded for an hour then set out on errands.
Judy’s getting off her employer’s health insurance plan at the end of the month. The associated debit card also extends through April. But the computer at the pharmacy thought otherwise. I had cash on hand. I reported the screw-up to Judy when I returned.
We booted her computer and went to HealthCare.gov. We answered questions about income, dependents, household members, eligibility, etc. Jumped through all the hoops, got approval, then turned to the plans to make a choice. We went to a favorite and discovered that I no longer qualified for a credit. A plan previewed earlier in the week had jumped from $380 to $1,100. Shhhit.
We went back to look over the available forms. I told Judy that it looked like the program wanted me to lose my benefits before letting me apply at a cheaper rate. Judy said, “We must’ve made a mistake.” We tried to go back to the application but couldn’t access it. Deleted the whole application and took a needed break. My neck felt like someone had turned the tension inside to the breaking point.
I made lunch while wondering how fast our checking account would plummet if the monthly payment stuck at $1,100. Doubted whether giving up beer, coffee, and new books would make up much ground. We didn’t linger over the meal and returned to the government site.
After whipping through preliminary questions that had puzzled us earlier, we discovered two places where we’d given wrong answers about the duration of my current coverage and whether my two employers offered health insurance. The computer program had decided, when I first applied, that I had other options. It penalized me for going out-of-bounds, so to speak.
We made the necessary changes, got approval, and scrolled to the plan selection point. The credit counted this time and the expected price showed up once again. Wheww.
I told Judy that I really wanted some whiskey. My nerves still jangled. Neck and shoulders ached. I’d gotten my second Pfizer shot a few days earlier and planned to stay out of public spaces until it kicked in fully. So Judy said, “Well, you can get some in two weeks.”
I picked up my guitar and strummed for a while. Graded some weekly assignments for an on-line class and wandered to my studio. Head throbbed. Did some calisthenics and sat down to meditate. Pressure eased. Painted for a bit, then made supper. Put my head on the table after finishing my soup and bread. Closed my eyes. Judy said, “You tired?” “Yeah. I’m shot.”
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