Time to say something really great about my H. He was a big help to me this week.
I doubt anyone will remember that I allowed my H to help me with a financial situation last year. It was the first really important favor I let him take on after the bomb, and as is typical, he then left it on his desk for ten months after having pushed me into letting him do it. For my part, I didn't pressure him on it, because I had decided that if he didn't do it, it just wouldn't get done. So in this instance it's better late than never.
Well, it took him two days and cost me $1000, but it seems that he was able to negotiate a deal with this company. Long story, but it's from one of my late-H's medical bills that I didn't even know about. They had reported the account for collection after five years, and I had never even seen a bill. When I contacted them last year, they refused to admit that they hadn't billed me. Grrrr... They wanted proof that I hadn't received a bill. WTF? "This is the air where the bill I did not receive might be occupying if I had received it." Obviously, I don't have the right attitude for this stuff.
H is a pro at dealing with credit issues. Consumer credit law is a hobby of his and he's a very skilled negotiator. So along comes H in flashing armor on his white horse. H called the company and talked to the same woman I talked to last year, but he got her to release a letter explaining the error and removing the entry from my credit report. Hurrah! Obviously, I paid the bill (plus interest), so everyone is happy. Even H seemed a little happy.
H has been down lately... still worried about money. He's gotten moody about the R. He's been grousing about stupid stuff too. For example, I rearranged the house to put my bedroom in the smallest room. Before I moved, he complained about how hard it is to move the furniture. I never asked him to help. Then he complained about how the room is too small... as though he does anything but sleep in the bedroom. Since the move he sits on the side of the bed that's one foot from the wall and complains about how he was right that the room is too small. ??? "Gee honey, you're 6'4", why don't you take your shoes off on the side of the bed facing into the room?" I hate to dismiss his feelings, but I really believe he's mad just because I did it without his input or involvement. Am I missing something here? This the same man who stores tires in the living room. Since when does he care so much about how I arrange the house? Little help...
