Three days after my hysterectomy, I shuffled into the kitchen expecting kindness—a note, maybe a smiley face on my mug. Instead, taped to the refrigerator was an invoice.
“Itemized Costs of Caring for You — Please Reimburse ASAP.”
In Daniel’s precise accountant handwriting, every act of care had a price: driving me to the hospital ($120), helping me shower ($75/day), cooking meals ($50 each), emotional support ($500). At the bottom, circled in red: TOTAL DUE $2,105.
My stomach dropped. This wasn’t a joke. My husband had turned my recovery into a business transaction.
But he underestimated me. For weeks, I tracked my labor: ironing his shirts ($15 each), errands ($45 plus mileage), “therapeutic listening services” during his work complaints ($75/session). Even retroactive “conjugal duties”—discounted at $200 each. By month’s end, his balance owed: $18,247.
I presented it in a crisp envelope labeled Final Notice. Watching his face pale as he read was priceless.
When he stammered excuses, I told him plainly: “Marriage isn’t a business deal. Treat me like a client again, and the next invoice comes from a divorce attorney.”
