Feb. 13, 2002 ~ Pity the poor CPA
who has to do our taxes. During the year, I actually forget what a loon I am about tax stuff. Just totally blank it out. To sum it up in one line: I worry too much. Really, the best thing would be for me to take the folder full of receipts to the CPA's office, dump it on his desk, and run just as fast as my legs can carry me. That way I wouldn't know about the weird stuff.
Last weekend I sorted through all the receipts, compared info to last year's return, wrote things down, and yesterday, saw Mr. Tax Guy. I almost made a clean getaway, too. But he asked one little question, there towards the end, and then I started wondering about it. Wondering, in my case, is not good. It leads to obsessing, which leads to goofy phone calls back to Mr. Tax Guy, where I have to explain, in excruciating detail, about some picky little thing that no one but me would think twice about. The sad thing is that I really, truly, do this every single year. For a few months afterwards, I worry about the stupid return. Will bad things happen? Will the sky fall? Is this the end of business as we know it?
But it is done, more or less, and as soon as I have the actual forms in my hand I will try my best to sign them and mail them (but I will probably have to examine them, line by line, to be sure they pass inspection) and forget them.
The only thing worse than dealing with tax stuff is dealing with HOME REPAIR stuff. THAT makes me crazier than just about anything. Except for dealing with insurance companies, THAT is the hardest thing of all.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I was starting to whine about home repair stuff. Plumbers really do make me nuts. Plumbing stuff makes me want to jump back in bed, pull the covers over my head, and just stay there until the crisis passes. The other day, I heard the strangest noise coming from the toilet. It was a brand-new sound, one I'd never heard before. Kind of like a hiccup, really. My first response was denial. "I didn't really hear that! Toilets do not hiccup! I'd better get out of this bathroom quick-fast!" But then I heard it again. And again. Visions of dollar signs danced in my head. Dollars being flushed right down that toilet, after we called the plumber to de-hiccup the potty. I was pretty sure it was serious. Probably a break in the water lines, most likely under the house, which meant we would probably wind up having to get a whole new house. Did I just see you roll your eyes? You did, didn't you! Now, look... this is serious business, this plumbing stuff, and I've already said that it makes me nutso. You agree with me, don't you? About the nutso part? Yes, I thought as much. Anyway, I had all these visions of really terrible things happening, and it was almost more than I could bear... coming on the heels of all the other crummy stuff in recent weeks. But then...
But then... I tentatively reached out a hand, telling myself, what if... what if... I wonder what would happen if I... just... flushed the toilet. So I gave it a try, and, you guessed it, the hiccup sound went away.
Trauma averted.
Different subject.
We'd recently started this money-saving idea, where I picked up the barn cats' leftover food every night and put it back in the house... instead of just leaving the excess out there for the possums and raccoons. Yes, I know, it's positively selfish, but there you go. We decided to give up feeding the wildlife. But the other night, I thought I saw a "different" cat on the porch, one I hadn't seen before. We haven't had any newcomers in quite awhile. Thought he might have been a stray. But wasn't entirely sure, because it WAS dark, after all. So I went all of two days, bringing the extra cat food back inside. NOW, of course, we have to leave the leftovers out there, because the NEW ONE appears to be starving. We can't have that. I peeked at him wolfing down the food yesterday and it was just heartbreaking.
He's a gray tabby, kind of like Squeak, but darker than Not Squeak, so I told my son that he's Neither One. We ran out of cat names long, long ago. Can you tell? But this guy deserves a real name, something better than "Neither One," so I'm going to consult with Susan this morning. Surely she knows some good ones.
This kitty seems aggressive (not a good thing), but maybe he's just scared. Or starving. I hope he settles down.
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