Today a few words from your broken down and beat blog pal. Yesterday was a day of getting things done. Alone I headed for Breaux Bridge and the tax man. I make this trip every year although it's usually earlier. As soon as that 1099 arrives, I deliver it into the accountants hands. This year getting that 1099 was a struggle. The husband had to make a few phone calls after patiently waiting and watching the mail box. Time was fleeing, tax time drawing near.
The company obliged by mailing him his 1099 only for us to find they had sent someone else earnings under the husband's name. More phone calls and he was told they would email him a copy and send the original in the mail so he could get his taxes prepared. Time is fleeing. I've said that. It bears repeating. When I arrived at the accountant's office, the parking lot was full. This is a bad sign. It's a sign that a lot of people have waited until late to do what I was trying to do today. I dropped off the envelope with all the information neatly and orderly attached. The husband makes it very easy for the accountant to do his job. Everything is labeled and separated. He seldom has to call us for more information. Now we wait for the bad news. The accountant is always timid and speaks in a hushed tone when telling us what we will have to pay. It's never very pretty but I expect it so his being cautious is not necessary. I write the check and let the husband get steamed up about it. He usually does. "Too bad", I tell him. "Go to work for minimal wage and you won't have to worry about it."
His reply? "Oh, then you could go back to work huh?" which leaves me silent. Let's not rock the boat too much here. I'll let him roar about taxes and I'll stay home and far from a "job".
Carrie spent the night. Nothing odd about that bit of news. All went well until bedtime. She was sneezing earlier in the evening. By bedtime more symptoms began appearing. A slight temperature and a runny nose and a whine. Her eyes were shiny and she, who never whines, was full tilt in sick mode, whine and all.
She wanted her mommy. I tried to rouse the daughter with phone calls. At 0200 I got a response. That's when she woke to the sound of her cell phone alerting her she had a voice message. Carrie was asleep and the daughter got a report on her condition. We'll let Carrie finish the night here.
I spent a night with Carrie restless and flailing her arms in windmill blows to my back. I was protecting my head and face. Her legs would push against me or be propped over me. She wouldn't tolerate even a sheet pulled up over her. I know my night was not one of rest. Hers must have been awful.
I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee, bleary eyed and brain numb. I thought this was a "mother's lot" and not a grandmothers. I hope the daughter is well rested from last night. It might not be a good night for rest for her tonight unless Carrie begins to feel better.
I'm staggering to the kitchen for another cup of brew and some CNN.