Hitched.

You heard it here first. I totally got hitched today. My newly-appointed husband was wholly inappropriate and tried to make me laugh during the civil ceremony. And speaking of inappropriate...

The Town Clerk not only awards marriage licenses, but doles out hunting licenses. They had posted a flyer with drawings of different birds. The husband may have been inappropriate during the ceremony, but I was the one who laughed at at the bird name "woodcock."

I'm such a child. Thus, I find it amusing that people depend on me to get them outta The Pokey.

On marriage and health costs.

I have Intracranial Hypertension. So no private insurance company will underwrite me and cover this condition.

Currently, I work on a contract basis for the state (which, I hope, shall someday change). The only practical meaning of this is that I have to pay quarterly estimated tax (no biggie) and I don't get health benefits (biggie). I should note that I accepted this position when I was able to get health coverage out-of-pocket for $125 a month; my diagnosis came about a month after I accepted the position. Would it have changed my mind? Maybe. But this is the state in which I want to work, and hell, they pay a lot better than where I was regardless of the benefits situation, even if I don't see the extra I'm making because of medical costs. Which brings me to...

My COBRA payments are a little under $500 per month. I'm also out of network, so I gotta shell out $80 or so every time I have to see the neuro-opthamologist. The MRI and spinal tap? Yeah, it would have cost me thousands without insurance, but given the rising prices of gas (and hence everything else), times are tough, and the extra $800 in medical costs I had weren't just laying around.

Chris just landed a full-time gig. With benefits. They have a domestic partnership bit for health insurance, except that we'd be paying tax on both the employee AND the employer contributions (I think it's a 20/80 split on benefits). More anti-gay sentiment. Disgusting.

His insurance kicks in May 1. My last COBRA payment goes in the mail this morning. And on Monday, we go to Town Hall and get married. Thirteen months early. My mom wasn't thrilled. I told her she should be happy we're not living in sin. The scary part? No blood tests, no waiting period. Thirty bucks and a photo ID will get any schmuck married, so long as he or she is getting married to an opposite-gendered individual. This schmuck is spending an extra $10 for a certified copy of the marriage license.

The real wedding is on May 9, 2009. You're all invited.

My fiance is handicapable.

My fiance cannot feel his feet.

This, of course, has been a bone of contention, because when he says he cannot feel his feet, what he means is that he cannot feel his feet in space. He can, however, feel pain and temperature. How do I know this? He once kicked me under the table while we were sitting at the diner. When I told him he had kicked me, he shrugged it off, saying, "I can't feel my feet."

I contemplated this statement for a moment and got a brilliant idea. "Excellent. Then at the next poker night, you should light them on fire. Or throw swords through 'em. Awesome party tricks."

He sighed, and responded: "I can feel pain, you know."

A lie! "So you can feel your feet," I said. And that's what happens when you date a trial lawyer. But I digress....

In addition to not feeling his feet (thus making him handicapable), Chris is also a recovering alcoholic. These two things are his two best qualities. And why?

(1) I always have a designated driver when I go out.

(2) Not only do I have a designated driver, but we get a parking spot up front.

I love that my fiance is handicapable.