Wednesday night, DH and I go through all the paperwork. Where's the will, where are the life insurance policies etc. DH knows none of this as his idea of filing is a large pile of paper whereas mine involves files, labels and order (control freak, moi?). I certainly don't waste the opportunity to point out that he is at a disadvantage here, although he has managed to regain access to the joint account all by himself, which dismays me a bit. Anyway, we find everything and, as a kind of National Lottery bonus ball, find a critical illness policy we took out ten years ago tucked away as well. It doesn't cover cancer in situ, which is what we think this is, but it's an unexpected find, like a fiver in your clean jeans.
That finished, DH stands up, stretches and announces, "Now we've sorted out the life insurance policies, I'm off to clean my gun."
Well, it made me laugh.