Parlez vous Mandarin?
Marriage for me is a lovely chaotic collision of things, some physical, some emotional, some financial. We're constantly down-sizing our stuff, giving away to charities and such, and looking to consolidate. We don't need two answering machines, two tape players, or two too many gray slacks.
Money is the exception to this rule - we're putting our two dollars together and hoping they make more. Really guys, go for it - be fruitful and multiply, you lovely little greenbacks.
Our bank's ATM machine, reflecting polygot San Francisco, speaks to us in four languages: Chinese, Russian, Spanish and English. Having visited Russia as well as several Spanish-speaking lands, I keep wanting to choose them at least once and see what happens. But it's an actual binding financial transaction, and I don't think Jane the banker, no matter how aimable her personality, is going to give me back our money if I accidentally send it to Khazikstan.
I can envision the conversation with Richard now. This is not a man who wants his money floating around all the X-stans. This is a man who wants to know his check to the grocer clears with a bit of cushion.
Him: "Babe, how much money do we have in the bank?"
Me: "Before or after we helped topple a tribal warland?"
Judge Wapner: "We rule in favor of the husband."
posted by Woman In Love @ 11:59 PM
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