Permanently misplaced

One of my least favourite jobs, apart from the ironing, is doing my husband’s expenses.  However, since I took over doing them I’ve realised that for many years we’ve been funding his previous employers. Yes, if he lost an invoice or receipt then he didn’t claim for it. Now I don’t have to tell you how easily my beloved misplaces things, particularly small things.

I have insisted that wherever possible he pays by card to leave me an audit trail. However, it may be any one  of a number of cards, I have to check all the statements. He also withdraws cash in a variety of currencies for sundry expenses. I have to recoup the residual on his return, and take account of the cash receipts, to determine what’s still outstanding and, believe me, there’s always something.  To piece all of this together requires a fair amount of forensic work. But, if I don’t, then someone else other than us benefits.

Prior to tackling this least favourite of jobs, I rewarded myself with a cycle in the hills. The temperature has dropped a few degrees further and the foliage is now looking distinctly autumnal. There weren’t too many other cyclists out on the same roads as me today. 

This afternoon, I became so engrossed in the trail of elusive paperwork that I forgot the passing of time and had to be forcibly reminded about my coffee date with a girlfriend. We meet up on a regular basis, in one of our haunts, to catch up on all things two-wheeled.

This week end’s pointage is in Beaulieu sur Mer but we will have to cycle Beaulieu sur Merthere without using the coastal route which will be closed for the 2nd Nice-Cannes Marathon. I suspect we may concede defeat and simply have a club ride. I am awaiting an executive decision from M Le President who has taken to calling me his favourite secretary. This is akin to my husband calling me his favourite wife.

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