The husband has a new mix up here. The baby and I are listening to it as we assemble skeleton knights for some Lego castle.
Tax preparation went well last night. I called to let them know that we were running late and the woman that I talked to said, “Okay, thanks Kerry!” Then when I got there I was called up by another woman who referred to me as “Kayla.” I’m just going to adopt multiple personalities to go with all of the names that people call me.
The lady who handled us was Russian and kind of awesome. I don’t know if I mentioned this on here or not, but I used to be a ballet dancer and she reminded me a lot of one of the Russian teachers I had when I was little, not only because they had the same name (Valentina), but also because they both had long, intimidating fake nails and odd shades of lipstick.
Anyway, I totally blew the mind of Valentina the tax preparer when I told her that my husband would be joining us in a few minutes and that, no, we didn’t need to wait for him to get started because I am the primary taxpayer. “Well, there’s no ‘Mrs. & Mr.’ categories in our software. Only ‘Mr. & Mrs.’ because not many women are in charge of the money.”
I instinctively straightened my poodle skirt and wondered if the other girls from the typing pool encountered this same problem.
But whatevs. Valentina got us a pretty decent refund AND taught my son how to say “how are you” and “good-bye” in Russian.
We ended not going to the movies because the roads were sucking and the husband’s cold was reaching new, grosser proportions. He sneezed in the car at one point and snot was splattered on the steering wheel, his shirt, and dangling from his beard. It’s really not appropriate in public.