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'Twas not a good day at Taxes for the Old and Befuddled.

In my working days I always marveled at the fact that my bus never ran late unless I was running late. Somewhat similar day of karma for me. I awoke about 2 hours later than usual, but still 2 1/2 hours before I had to leave home. On my way to the kitchen to make coffee I wondered why the carpet was wet near the kitchen. Oh joy, my dishwasher has sprung a leak. As I did my daily check of my bank accounts I found what appeared to be a fraudulent "web payment" of more than $1,000. I finally had enough coffee to realize that they've changed the way they show my automatic mortgage payment, I'll deal with the dishwasher later, and life goes on. But there was no time for a shower or to fix a lunch to take with me.

We do three appointments per session, 10:00, 11:00 and 1:00 giving us time for lunch.

10:00: My father has come back to life, having shed his countless good qualities and retained only the attitude that he knows everything and nobody else can find their butt with two hands and a flashlight. Maryland has an incredibly chintzy standard deduction, and we often find that electing to itemize, even though it results in a higher Federal liability, actually results in a lower overall Fed/state liability when the Maryland tax is considered. Mr. 10:00 couldn't get past the fact that he would have to write a larger check to the Feds no matter what we told him.

We finally got 10:00 out the door at 11:15 and greeted Mr. & Mrs. 11:00, she in a wheelchair the size of a small Central American country, both deaf as a post. "We've been married 61 years," one or both shouted frequently. She was an organizer, equipped with reams of unusable scrawled notes that she kept shoving at us while we screamed what we needed. I do recall saying to myself at one point, "If she asks about that m***********g withholding from his pension one more time...." After we finally got rid of them there was no time for me to go find some food, not even time for me to grab a cig. My coworker was trying to calm me, and I informed her that the only thing that would improve my mood would be do dump that woman out of the chair and stomp her to death with my 12-D's. No jury would convict me.

Mr. 1:00 at least was questions only and a fairly quick learner, meaning that the look I shot him the first time he wanted to argue about an answer got through to him.

I stopped and picked up a pint of super-premium dulce de leche ice cream on the way home, snarfed that down, followed with clear liquids, and I'm feeling much better now.

Still, if I saw that woman in a dark alley, ....

Rule Your Retirement Home Fool
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