Dear Moving (and Uncle Sam) – I hate you both.
So, I haven’t blogged much lately because we’re moving all the way next door in just two weeks, and as I realize each time I take on the daunting task of packing, it’s amazing how much crap you accumulate after two kids and 14 years with someone. The house is awesome though, way, way, waaaay more awesome than our current one.
Wanna peek (or become a stalker? I love stalkers…)?
If you take the little arrow and move it to the house on the right, that’s our current house. Which has become something like a slightly more carpeted prison over the last two years (although I’m fairly certain prisons are built just a little better). At any rate, I’m having to fight off my natural tendencies for procrastination BIG TIME in order to get prepared (this is coming from the same person who just filed her taxes yesterday. On tax day).
Which brings me to my next gripe. Taxes. Who the fuck came up with this system? (yeah yeah, our founding fathers. whatevs.) You’d think in a year where Kyle was unemployed for six months we’d be getting a big, fat return, right??
Wrong, wrong, OH SO WRONG.
See, as it turns out, Unemployment Insurance (you know, that shit you pay for out of your paycheck – the one that is TAXED) is still taxable. So rather than getting the few grand we typically get, we’re getting a whopping $600 back from the Feds. Not too bad, you say? Wrong again (Sweet Jesus, get it right already!!). Turns out we owe the grand ol’ state of Colorado $700. Nice, right?
So in short, our reward for barely eating last year thanks to Kyle’s unemployment is a nice fat tax bill. And no refund. Awesome.
In other news, Emma had a playdate with her little friend Alle on Saturday, and messy fun was had by all (turns out if you mix sidewalk chalk with bubbles, it creates something akin to brightly colored glue). Also, note to self: Remember to upload the video of them doing the macarena for future blackmail purposes….
Jack threw on his typical charm (a scary foreshadowing of the teenage years to come) and followed the girls around EVERYWHERE, much to Emma’s dismay. That is, until Alle’s little sister Sophia showed up (fickle man. so typical).
Now back to cleaning; we have a friend we haven’t seen in like 12 years flying out tonight (holla, Justin Gries!!), and I’m suspecting he and his wife wouldn’t appreciate the current state of my kitchen… besides, that’ll let me procrastinate on the “packing” thing more!