Wayne and I had an interesting telephone conversation yesterday morning.  I was getting ready to leave for church and planned to stop by the hospital on the way home.
 
“Hi, Sweetheart.  On my way to the hospital. Would you like me to pick you up a Whopper?”
 
“No thanks.  The woman who gives me Physical Therapy is getting me one.”
 
Ah, so Wayne had been flirting again.  “Is she paying for it herself?” 
 
“Of course not. The insurance is covering it.”
 
“Our insurance company is paying for a hamburger?”
 
Wayne hesitated and then blurted out, “Good grief, no!  They’re paying for a walker.”