Another useless made-up holiday. Oh, how I hate 'em.
Okay, I admit, if I were older, and a man, I'd be called a curmudgeon. And I like that idea. Why can't women be curmudgeons?
Anyway, I don't like holidays that require a superficial sentiment. Hell, I don't like shopping for birthday cards.
I'm not opposed to it, as long as it's not something that I am expected to participate in, but I do have to say that I think greeting cards, in general, are over priced, and useless. I send Christmas cards because I can get them on the cheap, but I honestly think I should get special dispensation from having to buy, sign, and send Mother's Day cards--for ever. I apparently suck as a mom (no, this is not some psycho attempt to gather praise for myself. I honestly think that right now, I suck.)
I've been a mother (no comments from the peanut gallery, please) for just over 19 years. I can honestly say that Mother's Day actually means very little to me. Having a *special day* just *for me* seems useless. It's not like I get the day to myself...and, most years, if I'm working, it's just a series of glimpses into the whacked-out-ness of most of the people on the planet: for example, one year, a guy stood outside the garden center gates shortly before the store opened and cursed and yelled at me because he had "a hanging basket emergency." WTF? I maintain that there's absolutely NO SUCH THING--even if the hanging basket is flying towards your head, it's a blunt-force trauma emergency, not a hanging basket emergency.
I like my birthday better--and we all know what I really think of that. *sigh* I know I forgot to get an inflated priced, supersappy card for someone...but who?
On a happier note:
For Mother's Day, the Howler made a pencil holder with a can, popsicle sticks and ribbon. It's sweet, but the best part is the coupon book she colored and filled in. It's got the single best gift any 6 year old could offer her mother--she'll play outside 10 times. (Yeah, it's a keeper. I'm hiding it from her!)
Friday, May 09, 2008
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Hold Your Breath
My Sweetie talked to the IRS today--yes, a real, live, breathing and thinking person.
It seems that since it wasn't actually INCOME, and we did not (please! do I look like I make a profit at anything?!) actually profit, they could "take it off."
As in, make it go away. As in, it no longer exists. (The money was imaginary, but the stress I've lived is NOT.) And now, this whole thing is banished into nothingness.
While I, personally, believe it's too early to be too jubilant about it, and I'm certainly not counting any chickens (or anything else) until the paper arrives from the IRS stating that it's been removed, I can breath a sigh of relief.
My Sweetie, God love him, has learned something from me--get a full name, and write down as much as you can. He also got the IRS person's ID number.
It's ironic, though. A letter from the IRS set this off, and now, I'm looking forward to a letter from the IRS.
Color me mumplized.
It seems that since it wasn't actually INCOME, and we did not (please! do I look like I make a profit at anything?!) actually profit, they could "take it off."
As in, make it go away. As in, it no longer exists. (The money was imaginary, but the stress I've lived is NOT.) And now, this whole thing is banished into nothingness.
While I, personally, believe it's too early to be too jubilant about it, and I'm certainly not counting any chickens (or anything else) until the paper arrives from the IRS stating that it's been removed, I can breath a sigh of relief.
My Sweetie, God love him, has learned something from me--get a full name, and write down as much as you can. He also got the IRS person's ID number.
It's ironic, though. A letter from the IRS set this off, and now, I'm looking forward to a letter from the IRS.
Color me mumplized.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Insane
and trying to get myself back in the groove. Work with me, PEOPLE!
Today, while getting supper on the table, I actually had to ask my Sweetie if he knew whether or not I ate lunch today. (He did know, and he could tell me what I ate.)
How bad is that?
I'm losing my mind. Truly. This thing with the IRS may be my last coherent thing.
Today, while getting supper on the table, I actually had to ask my Sweetie if he knew whether or not I ate lunch today. (He did know, and he could tell me what I ate.)
How bad is that?
I'm losing my mind. Truly. This thing with the IRS may be my last coherent thing.
In Normal Life
Or at least what passes for normal in Mumple Land, I have to say that I'm rather disgusted with myself at this point.
I read too much.
I read so much that I am now re-reading books that seem interesting to me....probably because I read them once already.
I go to the public library (okay, not so great, but what else can I do?) and I do occasionally say, "I want to re-read this." But lately, I'm finding that I think, "This sounds interesting." and it's not until I'm 150 pages into it that I think, "This sounds familiar."
I think I'm degrading into dementia and senility very very quickly.
I read too much.
I read so much that I am now re-reading books that seem interesting to me....probably because I read them once already.
I go to the public library (okay, not so great, but what else can I do?) and I do occasionally say, "I want to re-read this." But lately, I'm finding that I think, "This sounds interesting." and it's not until I'm 150 pages into it that I think, "This sounds familiar."
I think I'm degrading into dementia and senility very very quickly.
Those Meddling Kids
Part of the whole IRS fiasco, for us, is that my Sweetie did honestly believe (and I did too--silly us) that the worst thing was going to be his credit in the crapper For Ever And A Day. Today, after church, he mentioned "I'd have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for those meddling IRS kids!"
We are finding the humor in it. Today, my Sweetie also asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day and all I could do was laugh. But even so, it's difficult to not have this suck up the whole of our world.
The clock is down 7 days and that means we have 23 days left.
Still getting no where with "professional help." The Booby Hatch may be the only professional help I reaquire soon.
I just hope that, in the end, we can get it settled and that his exwife gets hauled away (or worse.) I'm not holding my breath though.
We can prove that she is responsible for 1/2 the debt. We can prove that she lied to everyone (except Domestic Relations when she wanted child support from her love-child's daddy). But is that enough? Ugh.
The letters I and R and S seem to wig out EVERYONE. Even people who haven't done anything wrong. Geez. How do you justify being this stupid? How do you deal with how embarrassing it is?
Do you know how hard it is to not just curl up in a dark room and concentrate on breathing?
We are finding the humor in it. Today, my Sweetie also asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day and all I could do was laugh. But even so, it's difficult to not have this suck up the whole of our world.
The clock is down 7 days and that means we have 23 days left.
Still getting no where with "professional help." The Booby Hatch may be the only professional help I reaquire soon.
I just hope that, in the end, we can get it settled and that his exwife gets hauled away (or worse.) I'm not holding my breath though.
We can prove that she is responsible for 1/2 the debt. We can prove that she lied to everyone (except Domestic Relations when she wanted child support from her love-child's daddy). But is that enough? Ugh.
The letters I and R and S seem to wig out EVERYONE. Even people who haven't done anything wrong. Geez. How do you justify being this stupid? How do you deal with how embarrassing it is?
Do you know how hard it is to not just curl up in a dark room and concentrate on breathing?
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Leprosy
Great. Just great.
I finally found an accountant who will look at what we have, listen to what we're saying, AND give conditional advice.
He says, "You need a lawyer who can help you get the information you have about the debt (and the other party who owes it with you) to the IRS." (We already have what we believe will suffice as legal proof.) And he gives us the name of who he would use.
So, I call them. I wanted to cry. (I didn't even want to cry on Monday, when the letter actually came.)
I understand that the legal secretary is the Gatekeeper. I understand she has a responsibility. I realize that any lawyer is going to be busy. But, to be told then, that "we don't handle that kind of thing. You need to talk to the person who did your taxes that year."
And when I explain (I've already told her who suggested I call them) that I've talked to "my people"(HAH! Do not let their ads fool you--they will deal ONLY with the quickest and easiest way to get it away from them) about it; AND I talked to a specific lawyer who suggested a CPA; AND the CPA I did call before talking to the accountant who recommend their office STILL hasn't returned my call....
Basically, the CPAs/accountants say it's a legal matter and the lawyers say it's a tax matter for the CPAs.
Somebody strap on a set and HELP me. I'll do it my own dammed self, but I have to know where to begin! For fuck's sake, I'll PAY YOU any amount of fucking money. Just HELP me. I know I'm in over my head. I know that I'm paying something, and I'll pay it--I just refuse to pay that nasty exwife bitch's half. It's THAT simple.
Hell, it's not even my fucking debt, and I'm willing to pay it.
I'm to the point where I'm trying to figure out if I qualify as a stupid person for marrying My Sweetie and this unholy problem.
Luckily, my mother was with me, and after I was almost in tears over the most recent lawyer refusal, she suggested I call the accountant back.
He called and left a message for the lawyer (they've worked together before) so he can try to explain that it's more of a legal matter involving taxes than a tax matter.
I'm afraid that part of why they don't want to deal with me is the last name. I swear to God, if it turns out that this is part of it, I'm staying married, but taking back my maiden name straight up.
I finally found an accountant who will look at what we have, listen to what we're saying, AND give conditional advice.
He says, "You need a lawyer who can help you get the information you have about the debt (and the other party who owes it with you) to the IRS." (We already have what we believe will suffice as legal proof.) And he gives us the name of who he would use.
So, I call them. I wanted to cry. (I didn't even want to cry on Monday, when the letter actually came.)
I understand that the legal secretary is the Gatekeeper. I understand she has a responsibility. I realize that any lawyer is going to be busy. But, to be told then, that "we don't handle that kind of thing. You need to talk to the person who did your taxes that year."
And when I explain (I've already told her who suggested I call them) that I've talked to "my people"(HAH! Do not let their ads fool you--they will deal ONLY with the quickest and easiest way to get it away from them) about it; AND I talked to a specific lawyer who suggested a CPA; AND the CPA I did call before talking to the accountant who recommend their office STILL hasn't returned my call....
Basically, the CPAs/accountants say it's a legal matter and the lawyers say it's a tax matter for the CPAs.
Somebody strap on a set and HELP me. I'll do it my own dammed self, but I have to know where to begin! For fuck's sake, I'll PAY YOU any amount of fucking money. Just HELP me. I know I'm in over my head. I know that I'm paying something, and I'll pay it--I just refuse to pay that nasty exwife bitch's half. It's THAT simple.
Hell, it's not even my fucking debt, and I'm willing to pay it.
I'm to the point where I'm trying to figure out if I qualify as a stupid person for marrying My Sweetie and this unholy problem.
Luckily, my mother was with me, and after I was almost in tears over the most recent lawyer refusal, she suggested I call the accountant back.
He called and left a message for the lawyer (they've worked together before) so he can try to explain that it's more of a legal matter involving taxes than a tax matter.
I'm afraid that part of why they don't want to deal with me is the last name. I swear to God, if it turns out that this is part of it, I'm staying married, but taking back my maiden name straight up.
Flip It
At the close of Day #3 in the IRS drama, we've discovered the humor in it.
We're sick, I know.
Actually, when you think about it, discovering that the IRS wants $14,000 is quite liberating. "How so?" Oh, ye of little faith! Listen up!
It puts everything, and I do mean EVERY. THING. into perspective.
Howler throwing a tantrum? No problem. It costs nothing except a few nerves. (and maybe an eardrum)
Toad being a jerk? No problem. It's just a few extra blood pressure points.
Work problems? No problem. I need the job to pay the IRS, so it's a whole new ballgame how much ankle grabbing I'm willing to agree to.
See? It's a win-win-win.
Oh, and most importantly, we don't have a Citibank Visa, so the enjoyment of the cardboard box we'll all soon be living in will be totally interest free, too.
Howler tantrum: FREE
Toad Jerkdom: FREE
Work: FREE for all (plus appliance boxes)
IRS letter: $14,008 + continuing penalties and interest
We're sick, I know.
Actually, when you think about it, discovering that the IRS wants $14,000 is quite liberating. "How so?" Oh, ye of little faith! Listen up!
It puts everything, and I do mean EVERY. THING. into perspective.
Howler throwing a tantrum? No problem. It costs nothing except a few nerves. (and maybe an eardrum)
Toad being a jerk? No problem. It's just a few extra blood pressure points.
Work problems? No problem. I need the job to pay the IRS, so it's a whole new ballgame how much ankle grabbing I'm willing to agree to.
See? It's a win-win-win.
Oh, and most importantly, we don't have a Citibank Visa, so the enjoyment of the cardboard box we'll all soon be living in will be totally interest free, too.
Howler tantrum: FREE
Toad Jerkdom: FREE
Work: FREE for all (plus appliance boxes)
IRS letter: $14,008 + continuing penalties and interest
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)