Tag Archives: tax season

We’re doin’ taxes

The hubby just came in from an afternoon spent sorting out our taxes and showed me (to the tune of hundreds of dollars) how I dropped the ball by incurring late fees and interest rates.  I HATE THAT!  I hate throwing perfectly good money out the window.  Why couldn’t he have simply left me in my ignorant bliss?

I blame the children.  They distracted me.

I also blame menopause.  I can’t remember when the actual due date of each (and there are plenty) bill.

I also blame Andy Williams (may he rest in peace).  Not sure why I am blaming poor Andy, since I love him.  At any rate, one of his Christmas ditties inspired me to write the following.  You may wish to sing it at your house.

Ahhhh, hemmm.  Here we go:

It’s the most horrible time of the year 
When the husband is yelling
And the IRS is telling you something to fear 
It’s the most horrible time of the year 

It’s the crap-crappiest season of all
With those 1040 tax forms and  and letters to inform you owe Uncle Sam your soul 

It’s the crap- crappiest season of all 
There’ll be dwindling tax shelters leading to homeless shelters  and having to sleep in the snow 

There’ll be scary audit stories  and now we are sorry about purchases from long, long ago 

There’ll be much Pepto-Bismol  and things sure look dismal  when April fifteenth comes near 

There’ll be much pencil throwing and hearts will be glowing  with horrible heartburn severe 

It’s the most horrible time

It’s the most horrible time

It’s the most horrible tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime!

Of the year!

Happy Taxes, everyone! 

Carolyn

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Filed under 35 symptoms of menopause, Dads, Marriage, Menopause, Motherhood, Tax season

Lions and Tigers and Bears: Oh. Menopause.

 Symptom 11:  Feelings of Dread, Apprehension, and Doom…

 Apparently, I went into menopause when I was 8-years-old.  I remember distinctly going through that entire summer feeling dread, apprehension and doom.  It seemed to revolve around this reoccurring dream I had about pyramids.  Huge, looming, Egyptian pyramids.  Scared the stew out of me.  Until now, I had no idea why I never wanted to travel to Egypt.  Duh.  Menopause.

I refer to this as my year of Egyptian pyramid menopause.  Then, there was the year of clown menopause.  Later on, it was Y2K menopause.

 My youngest daughter is most certainly in menopause and she hasn’t even entered puberty yet, poor thing.  Outer space gives her the heebie-jeebies .  She hates anything outer space.  Star Wars, constellations, Buzz Lightyear…   “Dear Mrs. Bigglesworth:  Please excuse my youngest daughter from the field trip to the planetarium as she is suffering from the eleventh symptom of menopause.

 At tax time, I think my husband entered menopause.  

 I must say.  It’s nice to know I’m not alone.

 Carolyn

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Filed under Anxiety, Children, Marriage, Menopause, Motherhood