changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003

tax day, oy vey: a little rhyme for the government.

i had my 34 week check up monday. i’ve adopted a new appreciation for summertime pregnant ladies. i mean, i knew it was a bitch already; but, now that i’m having to experience a bit of it myself, i’ve reached a new level of thankful that i don’t have to carry far into the texas summer months. of course, i’ll still be toting a sack of heated up flesh everywhere i go... it’s just that it will be on the outside and will come with 12 required accessories... half of which will be covered in heat-retaining plastic. will this be what finally makes moving north of texas seem like an astonishingly good idea?

so, as a result and in addition to my night sweats, i’ve begun a new phase where i have a rather difficult time cooling down once heated up. and it’s only april. of course, it’s devastatingly hot out there already. 97 degrees according to the keom dj with the affected voice making him sound like the older brother from napoleon dynamite. it made me feel a bit better about the sweat forming in the pits of my shirt and the seat of my pants than if it had only been 85. just please let next monday be relatively cool so i will suffer minimal embarrassment during my 35 week anal swab. that’s right: i said anal swab. yet another of the mysteries of pregnancy about which the sisterhood has failed to inform its novices.

anal swab. oh yes. the baby just shuddered.

i once again returned home to the tune of somethin’s burnin’ in the kitchen with helen after reading her newest note to the mailman in the foyer of our building. it seems she has already managed to lose the mailbox key which replaced her most recent lost mailbox key not two or three weeks ago. i tell you now: my chances of dying in a dastardly apartment fire are on the rise.

after activating the a/c and trying to remove smells that are some combination of burning and cooking and possibly cat poo, i settled down for the last phase of my tax preparations. darren configurated my forms for me this year so that he could apply some fancy footwork to my contract work the first half of last year. and thank god he did. i had managed to completely forget that, in addition to not paying any taxes on my $3900 in unemployment wages (which didn’t end up harming me when i did the same in 2004), i had completely forgotten that i did not pay any taxes on my $9000 odd in contract work. shit figgles. after erroneously thinking i might get some little refund to throw at my failing finances, i was initially hesitatingly informed i might be paying in the neighborhood $1500-$2000. sticker shock! so i was “glad” when darren managed to work it down to $932. a paltry sum. i scoff! i use up the rest of a credit card and empty out my bank account! again!

but what was most odd and frighteningly engaging about the whole tax experience was the way my cats were effected. i had retrieved the envelope of papers from underneath darren’s welcome mat last evening upon our return to dallas. when i pulled them out today to shuffle through them, oskar (“the huffer”) went bananas. bananas all over my tax forms. there was biting and skiddling and rubbing and throwing up of arms. i incurred scratches. the bedspread received a rip. then ttyki rubbed her face all over them. i let them do this for awhile because they were tax forms and i was going to have to pay $932. so what do i care if some tax workers in austin unknowingly get some cat butt cooties on their hands? i don’t!

later in the day, after oskar spent several episodes loving on the envelope, ozzy came in and slobbered all over it. literally. i’m not sure if the slobber came from his nose or his tongue or both, but there was definitely slobber there.

i’ll have you know that just because i take and post a multitude of cat photos does not mean i am a crazy cat lady.

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... and then they were totally bedraggled from their efforts.
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