Apr. 16th, 2007

luciab: (susan 3rd grade)
My mother called last night, trying not to let Daddy hear her talking. It was kinda funny; I felt like I should close the studio door to keep it more secret or something. Anyway, she was telling me about their taxes. She wants to believe Daddy's okay, so she has let him "take care of" the taxes this year. Yep, that's worked out just about as well as you thought it would, given that he still has some dementia from the hospital stay, and I think he has recovered about as much as he's going to. When she asked him about it, he said, "Well, let me think about that a minute." And later when she siad, "Well, where would you have put stuff like that?"he said "Don't be so critical!" Seems no one has any idea where the tax information is. It's not just their retirement income, either; they have interest income too. They have an accountant (I should probably send him flowers or steak or something) who said, "Don't worry about it! I'll file an extension for you," which was a hell of a relief for Mother. What a saint, to be so nice when they called him on April 14 with this dilemma. Mother said he was so sweet she almost cried, and she doesn't cry any easier than I do. She said he did tell her that he noticed some confusion on Daddy's part last year at tax time but thought it was because of Aunt Susan's death. That really surprised her.

What really prompted the call, though, was that the accountant said he should probably have Danny's and my phone numbers and contact info. That both scared her and made her indignant. She informed me that during the war, her job was "figures" whatever the hell that means. (And here I had pictured her with her little Rosie the Riveter scarf on.) She was good at it, too, she informed me. And while she was telling me the story, she uttered the first curse word I have ever heard her say in my entire life. She said she had done everything she could find to do, so the supervisor gave her a project she thought would take Mother awhile. Later she came back and said "How's that coming?" obviously thinking Mother would be working away for hours more. Mother handed her the papers, and the supervisor said "Damn!" Mother got such a kick out of saying this forbidden word that she repeated that part of the story two or three times. Mother learning to curse....what a Hallmark moment.

She admits that she can't afford to let financial stuff like that go now. She insists, though, that he drove to church yesterday "and didn't make a single mistake!" Sigh. Or yikes. Or both.

It's just the same-old, same-old, otherwise. I volunteered at the library today, got my taxes submitted, and filled out a job application. Wait, that isn't exactly the same old thing. Blase, that's me. Now I'm working on the last set of silly questions. Some of these are harder, though. Might have to bestir myself to go to the library or something. What a concept.


luciab: (Default)
Susan Arthur

February 2011


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