The researchers found that when money started slipping through people's fingers they began talking more with their spouse, about credit ratings, debt, and spending. That is a good thing. 

We have on occasion discussed finances in our marriage groups over the years. It is not one of our favorite picks, partly because we feel kinda inadequate and partly because we gravitate toward more upbeat material. But talking is better than both arguing and ignoring, so I am glad to hear about the trend since 2008.

John's motto is "The Monopoly money goes back in the box at the end of the game." That sentiment has calmed me in the wake of ER bills, and car transmissions. 

One time it felt more like a game than usual was when I opened a fierce collection notice from the hospital regarding an MRI for Benjamin. It was printed in a boldface font with poisoned ink. We had pretty generous insurance at the time and I called the phone number with a trembling voice. 

"Hello, this is Benjamin's mother. It says we owe $900 for this procedure. Did insurance deny it?" 

"Let me check, hon." The woman on the other end snapped her gum. She had no malice, no vendetta against me, in fact no perceptible emotion regarding my worth as a person. 

"Here it is. We submitted it to your insurance, and they paid the negotiated rate of $300. You can throw the letter away. Have a nice day, hon."

They asked for $900 but $300 was fine too? I thought that kind of bargaining only happened at yard sales and clearance deals on velvet paintings.

Another time money felt artificial was when my father took me fabric shopping a few months before he died. He handed me his credit card and waited in the car with his oxygen tank. 

"Buy anything you want, Sweetheart." My heart raced. I bought enough silk for a king sized star. 

By the time I finished quilting it, he was gone. All his money went back in the box. I still have the star but I would rather hold his hand.