Well, I got the IRS to drop my payments.  I'll be paying it off for
another year, but hey.  I thought it WAS paid off, but my wife (who's
had recent head trauma... hmmm) apparently thought it was paid off, too.
It wasn't.  They just stopped sending the paperwork.  Just great.  Well,
it would have been, except they resumed sending the paperwork.  Not so
great.  These idiots, you would think they would just keep sending the
paperwork so they could keep receiving their payments, but no.  One has
to wonder if this is some kind of Psy-Ops, or something.  Or maybe I'm
just an idiot who didn't pay his taxes on time.  And that's another
thing.  The government can owe a zillion dollars (OK, just a trillion)
and keep on floating checks, but if I owe just a little less than two
grand I might go to jail, or have my check levied.  Well, I guess they
gotta keep floatin' them checks, and I guess they need my piddly little
payment to do it.  "Hi, I'm here from the government.  I'm here to help
you."  Thanks.
 
Well, the good news is that I can afford to replace my camera that
someone stole.  At least, I think someone stole it.  Maybe I should get
the government on that.  Wait, those idiots can't even find Osama, and
they KNOW where he is.  Just replace the GD camera.  Who needs the stress
of being pissed-off about it?  If I want stress, I'll try and have a
conversation with my wife.  She's in a pissy mood this morning.  Well,
most mornings, but this morning she was in an aggravated, pissed-off
mood.  Yep, that's why I love her.  Once we got done exchanging
nastinesses to each other, I asked her, "What's really wrong?  What's
bothering you?  Is it because I'm breathing?"
"Yeah, I guess, I don't know."
Fine.  I'll stop breathing.  I needed to take a break from breathing,
anyways.  I use my final breath to sigh.
 
The monkeys (what I call my ferrets) are out and about.  Chase, my little
girl born on February 13th this year, has been climbing up my leg to see
what I'm doing.  So has Shelby.  These guys are what make the IRS and my
wife's problems bearable, for the most part.  Chase runs up my leg like
I'm the embodiment of the Information Highway and she needs to look up
"ferret treats" on Google.  She sits on my lap, looking up at my desk,
her true goal.  I let her put her front feet up on the desk, but when she
jumps up I grab her and put her down on the floor.  I can't have her type
this out, although I'm sure she would have fun trying.  Maybe do a better
job.  She's a smart girl.  No sooner do I put her down on the floor, then
she makes a quick U-turn and runs back up my leg.  I put her down, and we
do it again.  I think I can see her smiling as she runs up my leg again.
This time I put her on the chair next to me.  She looks at me, indignant,
jumps off the chair and runs back to the Information Highway.  I start
laughing, and then I let her get a little futher on my desk before I grab
her and put her back down on the floor.  It's a wonderful game.  I'm not
thinking about taxes, or bitchiness, or work, or anything, even if it's
just for a few minutes.  I needed this.
 
Anyways, it's now 11am, and I gotta be at work in two hours.  I need to
move my butt and get to the bank and maybe find myself a digital camera.
My wife still thinks the ferrets drug it off someplace.  Probably, two
days after I buy a new one, we'll find the old one.  I'll give it to my
wife if we do.  Maybe then I can resume breathing.
 
Roary
Albuquerque, NM
http://ferretphilosophy.blogspot.com
[Posted in FML issue 4944]