I AM moving to Florida—I really am. In about 2 weeks, I’m shaking the dust of Kansas City from my sandals—probably never to return.
So, two weeks ago, I phoned my home insurance company and spoke to the agent I’ve been dealing with for 22 years about the logistics of the move. We discussed several options. I’ve chosen to sever my relationship with the company and see what happens after I get to Florida.
After all—I’m going to rent my home until G.W. is 1] removed from office or 2] elected out of office or 3] declares Marshall Law and appoints himself Dictator For Life. Whatever happens in Washington will determine what I do next—like whether I’ll live in Florida or Mexico.
So, today I got a letter from my insurance agent. On his letterhead. With his photo. I would wager he knew the letters were going out. Or, at least, his computer knew. The letter assumed I’m going to keep the home insurance and asked me to add car insurance—just like the other 6 letters I’ve received [and ignored] every year for the last 22 years.
I received this letter two weeks after Clint [my agent—I know HIS name] told me he would change my status in his computer.
Uh-huh. I’m an unperson.
Don’t you just love living in the US?