Sunday, April 01, 2012

Irrelevant Lilac

Got a Final Notice from the county asking about what property I owned as of January first. The fact that I thought I already turned this in … and that I have not located the original request form even after clearing off most of my desk, indicates a bit of negligence.

I started a new full-time job on the 12th; I worked there the week prior during my "off" hours at the was-full-time-became-part-time position with the attorneys.

The day before that, the new-old cat came to live with us. The split-job week, I tried to make appointments for the two birds who continue to be sick, but as the clinic is 25 miles into the suburbs, accessed by the one major commuter highway, trying to get there at either 7:30 in the morning or 4:30 p.m. proved to be an impossibility. I thought I could swing it, but then I'd come to the realization, usually because I was tired, that I was making up new physics.

Judge me for the fact that last year's tax forms are sitting here awaiting signatures. Granted, they were completed in extension-time October (when I had to borrow money to cover what was owed due to 2010's unintentional self-employment status). I'm not being penalized; the IRS got things electronically — and they got their money (even the extra $300, including penalties) that my accountant messed up due to a misunderstanding (another way to put this is that she did not check the 2009 forms she had prepared for us).

Figure this pattern out for me; help me correct this character flaw:

I was all set to take the birds in on some evening (before I had actually decided it did not meet the requirements of our standard three dimensions), but the receptionist/tech, who said she'd call to confirm that particular appointment slot was indeed open for Dr. B____, did not. Did I call her? No. I opted to operate on the presumption that it wasn't for me to go bothering her, that a no-call meant "no." When she called 30 minutes after I should have been there, had I known (fully) I was expected, I ignored the call. I'm like that.

Of course, the birds are still sick. I may just call my usual vet, the one who proclaimed Bird 1 cured last July, when the very next day Bird 1 threw up again, and a few months before Bird 2 started showing the same kind of symptoms. She's probably less expensive than the ones with the fancy website and the excellent "cageside manner," but I get tired of her attitude and the fact that she keeps bird-patient records on index cards.

Likewise and illustrative of the same personality disorder (me, not her), I have touched and moved and resorted the completed 2010 tax forms dozens of times since October. I think it was January or so before I actually read them thoroughly enough to discover that the CPA had assigned me a new job description (making both my husband and I artists for our 1099 income), as well as reported a business address for him that is actually our former apartment (four years ago … she has been doing our taxes for about eight …). This apartment address, granted, appears on his paychecks, because he works for one of those bosses who can't be bothered to switch things, but that address would be on a W2, not the numerous art-business-related 1099s.

So, being exasperated by the prospect of having to send in corrected 1040s myself (sigh) or to ask the accountant (who did not blink about the fact that her error incurred me $170 in penalties for that aforementioned oversight) to do so while hoping it's not a job charged to me, I haven't completed the signing/mailing step.

I have not combed through all the 2011 receipts and reporting forms, either. Yes, I know this is all due in a fortnight. Once you get on the delayed train, it's very difficult to go back. I filed my own extension last year anyway.

It's the same with the mortgage payment; it's not "late" until the 16th, and at some point (hmm, perhaps due to poorly paying jobs? : ) jumping on the computer and authorizing a one-time EFT on the 15th became the norm.

The cat did go to the vet on Saturday. Unfortunately, she still has stomatitis, which means that her prognosis was not fully disclosed to me when the rescue group handed her over (with veterinary paperwork … I thought the dental work they did had fixed things / did not have a smart phone on hand to Google about this mouth inflamation condition), and that she's in pain.

To try to fix that, she will have to have a surgery to remove most of her teeth. This includes X-rays and biopsy to see whether the underlying cause is cancer or whatever. The condition is not necessarily age-related.

Behind in mail-work, as well as taxes and filing, I need to send my cousin a congratulations card for her marriage, my grandfather a thank-you card for his Christmas gift, and some copies of the product the company I now work for publishes to my immediate family members.

My excuse is that I was looking for a job and then I found one. I also had a contract job come and find me, thus adding to the time-less-ness. And I sometimes write here. And I sometimes write at another blog that has a semi-public purpose.

The things I was going to send my brother and sister-in-law for Christmas are still here; I am going to wait until after they move, which is in about eight weeks.


Nick said...

the county also missived me last week, saying THIS TIME if i didn't confirm their apprehension of reality by may 1st, PENALTIES WOULD APPLY.

'course...back in december they said much the same…with the PENALTIES APPLYING by march. meh.
i had no problem finding the original mailing; it was neatly perched atop a stack of mentally consigned 'due whenevers' next to a Manhole cd i keep forgetting to bring an office compatriot for his daughter.

at risk of out loud laughter, the county is strange: unless i buy an entire marijuana farm (in an undisclosed location), for cash, from an unnamed individual who has no conception of taxes much less actually files them, the country assessor is perfectly aware of what real property i may have accumulated or shed myself of in the past year – one can’t purchase a motorized Tweety Bird PEZ dispenser without paying silver homage to mike sanders…

fuck ‘em.

send granddad that thank you card

Hyperblogal said...

I sent mine back with a note saying, "I sold all my stuff to Nick."