over oatmeal

Yesterday Abe found out how much our health insurance will go up once Lydia arrives. Already ambivalent about the whole concept of health care, this news pushed him slightly over the edge. This morning, as Abe absentmindedly ate his oatmeal, I was treated to a cost/benefit analysis of compulsory health care (with an emphasis on cost).

It's not that he's against health care, but he sincerely struggles when he thinks that he's paying for the unhealthy habits of others.

"If everyone just ate right and exercised," he said, absent-mindedly stirring around his oatmeal, "these premiums wouldn't be so out of control." I sipped my hot cocoa silently and thanked my lucky stars that Abe wasn't around yesterday to witness my unhealthy habits (the Toblerone hidden in the cabinet, the leftover icing snitched from the fridge, the episode of Iron Chef America which replaced my yoga session....)

Not that Abe is easily located on the political spectrum. If I had to label him, I would say he's a fiscally conservative environmentalist who flirts with libertarianism every time he calculates how much he pays in taxes. But even when he is repulsed by certain concepts (for example, having to pay for the consequences of other people's unhealthy habits), he still tries to see things from another person's point of view. That means breakfast pontifications are constantly qualified with attempts to articulate reasons why his speculations might be wrong, and the whole process of consuming a simple bowl of oatmeal ends up taking a looooooooong time.

I silently monitored the ratio of bites taken to sentences spoken, and things weren't looking too great. Abe was just getting started, and already it was time for him to go. Thus far, I had mainly provided a listening ear, but when I saw the time and realized that if Abe didn't hurry up he would be rushing on the road, I took matters into my own hands.

"Well, honey," I said, smoothly, "it's a good thing you've hedged your bets on the unhealthy habits of the American public. We'll just hope that whatever we lose in unnecessary health insurance gets made up by the insulin stocks."

I was referring to the stock Abe bought after hearing over the radio that in a matter of mere decades, one third of the American population will suffer from diabetes. "This is really tragic," Abe muttered, as he came home and immediately began researching the top producers of diabetes products. "Can you imagine the magnitude of this health crisis?" he asked, while simultaneously processing an e-trade that invested our fate with the makers of insulin.

He still feels some guilt over betting on the bad habits of the public, and my comment produced the immediate desired result. More oatmeal, less critique of the system. Finally, as he stood up, he announced with a grin that we should start an insurance company for healthy people. "We'd monitor their groceries, test their urine for traces of caffeine and alcohol, make them keep exercise logs...and make a ton of money!" he said, cheered up by the thought.

"Mmmhhmm..." I replied, reflecting again on my hidden Toblerone, but rejoicing that he had finished his oatmeal and no longer had to worry about rushing on the roads to work.

Now that Abe is driving safely to work, I guess it's time for me to make up my missed yoga session from yesterday. But if I end up procrastinating more and eating that Toblerone instead, at least my bets are hedged.