Actuarial Widowhood

Frank is an actuary.  My father’s girlfriend has come up with the best way to describe this profession — he’s a legit bookie.  He does some sort of magic and figures out how much companies should pay/charge/make their employees pay for their health benefits.  OK, so maybe it really isn’t magic, but I’m not sure what it is.  Something with math.  And Excel.  And something called FAS, I think.

January is to him what March & April is to a tax accountant.  Busy busy busy.  Most companies close their books on December 31, so January means they all need to shuffle last minute for all the stuff they need to really, officially, close their books.  Stuff that only my husband, apparently, has the power to provide.

So, I haven’t seen him much this month, and neither have the kids.  We woke up this morning before Frank left for work and Lane thought it was so weird that Daddy was around in the morning.  (Granted, even when he’s not busy we usually are still asleep when he leaves — not because he leaves so early but because we sleep so late, for which I will make no apologies.)

But, there are plans this weekend.  Plans for his uncle’s birthday party tonight.  Plans to hang out with friends in Connecticut tomorrow.  Plans to eat dinner with his parents on Sunday.  We will see him, and it will be socially unacceptable for him to be on his laptop.  Hurrah!

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