Willem and I just left the insurance agent’s office, and we are now, effective immediately, covered for an embarrassingly large sum of money.
I’m worth much less than he is, for various reasons. Mostly, I have very little individual debt, and my personal debt – student loans in an ungodly sum – will die with me. So should I end up losing our next rousing game of Catch the Piano, I’ll leave behind some funeral expenses, and of course there will be an increase in childcare costs and the wild parties Willem will want to throw, but otherwise I won’t leave behind an enormous debt load. I am a party to our mortgage, but Willem has an inheritance from his father that is explicitly designed to deal with various, specific costs.
Willem’s policy is more than three times mine, because his trust is for him, only. We can’t use it to pay off my student loans, and I won’t be able to touch it after he dies, except in specific, child-centered circumstances. So we need a higher amount of life insurance to allow me to stay in beer and peanuts should he decide to exit the premises earlier than expected.
I’ll tell you what, sitting in the insurance agent’s office and answering a bunch of questions makes it really, really hard not to make jokes about heroin usage and international travel in my position as mercenary.
And, having dashed off the proper signatures, we’re covered as of today, though the actual amount of monthly premiums will be determined based on a medical exam to happen sometime in the next month or so. Which is just so appallingly, astonishingly, terrifyingly adult – We have wills. We have health care proxies. We have life insurance. – that I just want to sit around eating candy and watching cartoons and hurling spitballs, just for balance.