When I started all of this I really just didn’t want to talk about my life and the nothingness of it. And then I realized… my life is FAR from boring. Not glamorous or something to be jealous of, but certainly not boring.
The day started off pretty easy, woke up at 9:30 and took Aaron to school. It’s impeccably early for us, considering I don’t get home from work usually until 1:30am. Morning coffee, check. Lovin’ Tim Hortons, check. Hating McDonalds in the morning, check. Seriously, who stops their breakfast at 10:30am? I always believed that lunch shouldn’t be served until noon, in fast food or at home.
We then went onto Buffalo, where I dreaded this time since last Thursday. The IRS building. I’ve been there 13546873125321 times in the last five months, trying to get this bullshit paperwork done. But it just seems as soon as I feel that it’s over, it’s really not. I honestly don’t feel that making the trip to the IRS building is a hassle, or talking to them is a pain in the ass, but the paperwork.
You need Form A attached to Schedule D attached to Maintenance Form 40 with virgin blood and a three headed pig. No, I am not kidding you ma’am.
The pain of it all starts in the parking lot. Simple, 5 dollars to park for 60 minutes, 6 dollars to park for 90 minutes. I couldn’t find that extra dollar, so I prayed and prayed that this wouldn’t take more than an hour.
We get inside the building, go through the metal detector which Darrell wanted to climb INTO. Get padded down and anal probed.
We meet the very same woman I was suppose to find, she gives me to another woman who I’ve previously spoken to. Who goes through 2 long ass questionnaires to see if what I need is really what I need when they were the ones to tell me that I needed it. Making sense anyone?
Meanwhile, my son is creating all chaos. Almost breaking the woman’s cubical door. It SLIDES, not OPENS. NO, you can NOT keep the highlighters. Do NOT chew on the little train thingie that she gave you. WHY are you drawing on the train thing with a highlighter???
MEANWHILE, she is asking me a million questions, and filling out a long ass form. Took Darrell to the bathroom per request (good man), and then came back. OMG the receptionist is a freakin’ nutcase. She saw me leave with Darrell, I told her I’d be back, I went to the restroom, came back.
Where are you going? To cubical 8. Did she tell you to come back? Yes. I told you when we left. Well, you don’t need to get snotty with me. -Me walking away- You don’t need to roll your eyes and give me attitude, I’m just doing my job. She’s screaming this across the office btw.
We get all the paperwork done, my blissfulness through this all is just slammed down to the darkness of hell because of the balance remaining. I leave the office, go back out to the car to see what…..
A fucking parking ticket.
For not paying enough.
The rest of the day went well. My son had his doctor’s appointment, healthy and fat as a cow. Not fat, fat, but in the 95 percentile of height and weight. Turning 4 next month, growing out of size 6 clothes. How big is this kid gonna be when he’s 18? 7 feet tall? He better be a good football player or something. Freakin’ college tuition.
Went to see my BBF upstate for a while, still makes me want a baby.
So I called the IRS….. And it’s all good. I can sleep, the freaking out is no longer there. I feel that I can plan for the future in a few weeks. Some sort of solidarity of everything is just wonderful. I can keep my paycheck.
Because, ya know, living life without my Timmy Hoe’s is out of the question.