The dread of a phone call I was certain would leave me interminably on hold. But no. A cheerful man on the other side of the recorded message, punching in punctually, answering my question without a trace of salesmanship or disparagement. And now, the paperwork is finally stowed under the desk with the other documents that mark the path of good citizenship, an accordion file of folders titled "Taxes" and "Insurance" and "Money." And now, there's "Health," emboldened by a Sharpie pen and the inch-wide thickness of a packet "Evidence of Coverage." On paper, at least, we're safe.