I was caught off guard the other day.
I hate it when that happens. I dread this time of year. Well, I don't like one particular event that happens every November.
This year, it happened Sunday afternoon and I was kicking myself for not being prepared.
Steve beheld me with "that" look. He thinks he's sending the I-want-to-ravish-you look but to me, it makes him look like he has a really sore back and his knees are giving out on him again.
"I have something we can do together this week," he purred.
"Really?" I asked, knowing better than to expect a romantic rendezvous.
I knew he was up to something. There is only one reason he walks up to me with that goofy look he needs something from me, that he isn't going to enjoy asking for.
"We have an appointment with Shellie this week," he said.
"Ugh," I moaned.
You see, Shelley just happens to be our accountant and the scheduled meeting meant I would have to put my year-end numbers together. Years ago, Steve and I would diligently work on these important numbers as a team.
Back then it was probably me looking at him with love in my eyes.
"Anything for you dear."
But, as I've aged, I've wised up a bit and have given up working with him on book keeping. I find it so boring and dull that I would find playing checkers with a dead man more entertaining.
I don't have any problem getting my numbers in order. I know what numbers I need when the year starts, so I keep track of those expenses, in my way of keeping track. All my receipts go into one file in my cabinet.
By Tuesday afternoon I had all my numbers assembled by Dr. Phil time. Steve finished his by the 6 o'clock news.
What I really dread is going to the accountant's office. Don't get me wrong, I really like Shellie, but put her and Steve in the same room and numbers and accounting rhetoric starts flying around the room. I start to get all sweaty and light headed.
Our appointment started out just fine, Shellie asked for a donation to get her out of Jail for the March of Dimes. I told her we would have to wait to see how this particular appointment ended.
After 15 minutes of computer keys clicking louder than hail hitting a steel roof, she said with a grin, "Now we are down to a loss."
Hey, this could be good. In 20-plus years of paying taxes as husband and wife, there has been only one that allowed us to stick the bill of our baseball caps into the mailbox looking for that infamous tax rebate.
After Shellie's comment of having a loss of income, the accounting verbiage really started to invade the conversation.
Later, Steve said, "We have a lot of section 179 this year."
What? Section 179? Isn't that a section of seating at Target Stadium?
I wanted to participate in the conversation, so I asked, "Is there any way I can purchase a 1-ton Jeep and call it the Farm Jeep? I would slap a farm sign on it if I had to."
I couldn't believe what happened next.
They laughed at me! Can you believe it? Heck all I was doing was trying to find a way to use my next vehicle as a tax deduction.
Steve and I were at Shellie's office for two hours. In that time, I took two bathroom breaks, made copies for Shellie and played around on my i-Pad.
It still seemed like an eternity to me.
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