Love, help, just being there. Staying in for the long haul.
This week I’ve been bombarded by our state of record for our tax preparers not sending them our full tax returns and W-2’s from other states. We thought they had our full returns until last week until we were threatened and told we had a week and there were no extensions, no electronic filing, no fax, no FedEx, no UPS and do not use Priority Mail but you must use the US Postal Service only.
Due to requirements I’m forced to print out 100 pages of forms from three states (I assume they have their own and the 1040).
The irony is that neither I nor my husband ever made one cent in this state in the past year yet paid full employment taxes, and now they are auditing us to make sure we paid them enough for paying through the nose to live here while making money in other states.
My husband helped this evening from 2,000 miles away by phone to put everything on a USB fob I can take to be copied tomorrow morning then find the post office (I send all bills online) and mail it.
I do have faith in and dedication to my husband. We’ve known each other nearly fifteen years and there is love, help, and just being there. He’s always there for me and our old dog Zoe. If he still has a cold, I’ve soup and tea.
His family had a dairy for 30 years, now a cattle ranch. Given the state we’re in, I’ll love the ones in which State they live, not necessarily the people who govern them here. I’m in for the long haul. You can find me at a crosswalk I got the city and county to agree on curb cuts to build, who painted it twice. State law is to stop for pedestrians. No-one stops.
Paint fades, is rarely re-done and no-one ever stops for an old lady and old dog. They beep the horn or run you over. That’s what state we live in. Here’s from a former dairyman’s daughter-in-law. Dee