Beautiful day! I should clear the garden! Go for a long walk! Maybe bike ride?
I do nothing like that.
First of all, another skunk meandered to the barn this morning. We decided to take him to an agreed upon habitat. That required truck transport. Because who wants to put a skunk in a car!
Ed's new old truck wouldn't start. The hood to my car would not open so we could not easily jump start the truck. By the time all those messes were cleaned up, it was 11. Breakfast was, thus, very late.
And then? Tax filing time. I have to do this now. I'm not here in early April. I absolutely have to do this now!
And so this year, you get to listen to me complaining about tax filing earlier. (Last year, I believe I complained around April 12th.) And let's be clear: I'm not complaining about paying taxes, I'm complaining about the complexity of the enterprise!
As a retired former state employee, my tax situation should be rather straightforward. We're not dealing with large numbers here by any means. However, I take all kinds of small actions to boost my savings and they trigger tax consequences, so reporting all this stuff is one big headache.
Most people would either hand it over to an accountant or use one of the software programs online, but Ed has convinced me over the years that you learn a lot by doing this stuff yourself and so this is what I do: fill out all those work sheets and schedules and do all my computations, tearing out my hair along the way.
The sweet guy is there to help, and I do call on him to give me advice, even though I'm the lawyer and once-econometrics major, so tax computations should be for me as easy as, say, fixing a bike would be for him. But it's not and I do some hand wringing and plenty of groaning along the way.
When the groans become too loud, he says -- listen, dont worry about making mistakes! They're depleted over at the IRS. No way will they catch up with you!
No! -- I tell him. They got rid of those who would have gone after rich people. It's cheaper and more rewarding to go after the likes of me, because I wont fight back and my mistakes will be easy to detect!
After another louder than necessary groan he says -- it's actually a good brain exercise.
True, and an even better exercise in patience.
I finish the fed forms. I still have Wisconsin. Saved for next weekend. Groan, in anticipation of it!
Gorgeous, we really should go for a walk.
And we do. In the early evening, into the setting sun.
It is a total release. Of tension over the week's havoc and destruction. A week of embarrassment and shame felt after watching one once-supporter-of-democratic-regimes (Republican) after another tumble and crawl out to the dark side. Of heartfelt sorrow for the losses sustained by those brazenly kicked out of work for... doing their jobs expertly. Too expertly. Over so much more...
I did not mention two things yesterday (because I got home so late...): first of all, if you are a subscriber to the Wall Street Journal, then you may have come across the article describing the horrible scrambling that has to take place because of the governmental chaos (tarriff and otherwise) in the company where Ed continues to do design work. Ed is interviewed and I think the reporter did a fine job showing how much is lost when these smaller companies have to shift their production and marketing to places that can offer greater stability. (The article is titled "A Manufacturer Tried to Get Ahead of Trump's Tariffs. It Still Got Whipsawed." but I cant gift it to you because I am not a WSJ subscriber.)
The second memorable for me detail is that we heard yesterday the first calls of the returning sandhill cranes. And sure enough, on our drive to the local county park, we saw some today, co-mingling at the moment with the Canadian geese.
It's Sunday. Family dinner? No, not today. I was supposed to do supper for just three: my daughter, Ed and myself. Don't ask why. It's one of those complicated situations of a visiting grandparent and time spent en famille and, too, it's Oscar night and Ed hates the Oscars, so my daughter was to keep me company. And then she woke up with a bug.
So I watch alone. I mean, Ed is technically here, but hiding upstairs. Nonetheless, it is, for me, a release to have this award show on: to take in goofy thank you speeches made by those whose business it is to act out our best and worst fantasies. How many times have I told a scared child who is watching a tense show or listening to a frightening story -- it's total fiction! Someone's imagination, on the screen (or on paper)! Tonight I am lost in those stories and performances and it feels oh so fine to think about nothing more than the jokes offered, the music performed, the dress or suit worn on this one occasion of total bland entertainment.
with so much love...
