So, faced w/ a house full of dishes that would have to be hand-washed, laundry that would require folding, or the prospect of running errands and eating lunch out, we opted to flee from our Frontier House experiment and have shelter a few blocks away, where I deposited the kids' piggy banks into their rightful accounts.

Now, I'm not trying to cause any Glass House scenarios or anything, but day-um!  Those kids are loaded, considering they've never worked a day in their lives!  They must have $700 between the two of 'em.  That's all been in spare change and cash gifts from relatives (a fiver here, a sawbuck there...hell, I have no idea what a sawbuck is, it's probably a five dollar bill, huh?), so the moral of the story is: stop spending your change and start saving that stuff.  And even a little bit of savings from here and there adds up to a lot over time.

Okay, so anyway, back from errand and lunch, and we had to do our speech therapy conference for Sam, wherein it was decided that he is the smartest nearly-three-year-old in town.  He's, what?  2 3/4 years old now?  He's just so smart.  Still has some work to do on his speech developement, but, you know...no one's perfect.  ('Cept for me, of course.  Of COURSE.)

Then back outside to play.  Today was a perfect day.  In fact, I'm fairly certain that weather-wise, it'll be perfect all week while we're on vacation...however, there's no OCEAN here, so I'm fine w/ missing the perfect Kentuckiana weather, as fleeting as it may be.  I also need to be away from my desk, the bad mojo neighbors, and the leftover phone calls from tax season.  If they missed the deadline tonight, they can wait another week, right?

Post speech therapy (which was really a long outdoor playdate), we hopped back into the family truckster and went out in search of provisions for vacation.  Of course I had mentally prepared for the bill amount of this venture, but, still...considering that I am a yard saler and a penny pincher and a "no, I'll go without"-er as much as possible...it about killed me today to spend a couple hundred dollars at Target.  Yes, I nearly died. 

HOWEVER, we did get a bunch of neat stuff.  Like a power converter so we can run the laptop in the car while we're traveling.  And cool swimsuit for me which Steve says doesn't make me look like a big, fat, housewife.  AND, it covers my two-baby-belly and he swears it looks good w/ my Lucinda Williams hat.  Other parts of the haul included new bras for yours truly, shoes for Daddy and Sam, suncreen for Seamus and Sam...hrm...a beach ball, oh, you know, all that kinda stuff.  Some other boring-ass big ticket items. 

BUT THEN...as we got everything put up in the car and were preparing to depart Target (pronounced TAR-JZAY, of course) to go to Kroger (KAY-Roger), or possibly Meijer (Myer--although my ex-in-laws insisted it was "MY-JER"), I noticed my keys were missing.

Oh, God, the freak-out.

Now, you may be thinking "big flipping deal, Leslea, so you misplaced your freaking keys, they were probably in Steve's pocket or something, right?  If not, you'll make a new set no big deal."

Yeah.  Tell that to my post traumatic stress disorder.

I had a freak-out for the first time in ages.  Granted, it wasn't a screaming, tearing-across-the-parking-lot-on-foot to shakedown all of Target freak-out, as I might have done in days gone by, but it was like a low pressure bomb was dropped right on my head.  I instantly hurt.  The thought of being out, away from my home without my housekeys made me sick to my stomach.  Ever since the PTSD days which I have blogged about extensively in the past, I have never, ever, ever been w/o my housekeys in my pocket at any time.  Nor do I typically forget to give Steve his housekeys, either.  In my damaged little hyper-vigilant brain cells, this chemical reaction assures the survival of the self or the other or the mutually shared children.  See, if Steve were to get conked on the head or run over or pass out and taken by ambulance to the ER, and I didn't have my keys, we'd be locked out of our car and out of our home, and things tend to get lost sometimes, you know?  So.

If you ever wondered what I meant by "hyper vigilence," this is one classic example.  Even though I feel, honestly, like PTSD is a part of my past, and not my present, well, this was the first time I have lost my keys--REALLY lost them, not just had a hard time finding them around the house--in ages.  Probably well over a decade.

I did shake down all of Target.  We offered them a reward.  Steve, bless his sweet heart, drove me home slowly and he insisted we look on the side of the road in case I'd left them on the top of the car and they'd slid off.  We got home and I thought they'd be in the door, still, from where I locked them earlier, but NOPE.  We both agreed that *I* had locked the house when we left, so we knew they had to be at Target, since they weren't in the car.  He drove us back to Target and searched all the carts in the lot and inside.  I felt queasy and sick, but I was trying to very actively release the stress.  I think I did okay!  I even asked Steve at one point "Why do things like this TRIP ME OUT so freaking bad???"

He told me God was testing me.  HAR!  Oh, boy.  Then we started discussing OT Yahweh vs. Jesus Christ, etc., so I did get a little distracted for awhile.  Nice diversionary tactic, Steve-o!!!

Well, we carried on w/ our shopping, when it became clear we would not find the keys, and of course, I offered a reward to whatever Target employee would find the keys, eventually.  At Meijer, I felt like I was on drugs.  I just couldn't shake that crappy feeling, so after Steve did some networking w/ a fellow photographer, we just made our one measly purchase and skedaddled home...

where...

of course...

My keys were still in the basket behind the door where I always keep them SO THAT I WILL NEVER LOSE THEM.

How do you like that?????

I felt pretty dumb that we'd already been home and I didn't take Steve's keys inside to see if the keys were in the basket.  At the same time, I was relieved I wouldn't have to shell out the $100.35 cents the Mazda dealership was demanding as hostage to get me a new remote for the car, and I didn't have to duplicate all my other keys and what-not.  PLUS, I have this awesome ear-splitting drill sergeant whistle on my keychain, and I'd have been bummed if I'd lost that thing.

I know it's not that exciting, but since we didn't take photos of me modeling my new swimsuit and bras, I guess that will have to suffice as the thrill of the day.  I never got around to xangaing, in all of this unusual "away from the house" activity in one day, so I apologize.  I didn't get to visit as many blogs as I normally would whilst captive here w/ a nursing child.

Conclusion...maybe I'm not as uptight as I think I am, after playing outside w/ the kids all day, if I forget altogether to get my keys before I leave.  Or perhaps I shouldn't let Steve be the last one out of the house again.  Either way, it's a good call.

BUT, to answer a couple of tax-related questions...

freekycheek, I don't know what to tell you about the W-2s missing.  Try calling the IRS.  They should have a record of it on file.  They just won't be very snappy about it.  In the meantime, maybe said moron will have no timely filing requirement due to his being owed a refund.  I'll hope that's the case, for his sake.  If you're the employer, for your sake, try to keep those W-2s & W-3 transmittal on file for a few years until you pitch 'em.  I recommend seven years, but I know that's a whole buncha paper to store. 

Amethyst369 makes a good point about titheing.  She pointed out that some people never tell anyone about their contributions to church and charity, citing that "don't let the one hand know what the other is doing" thingie, in essence.  I've thought of that before, but I didn't think about it last night.  And, honestly...? 

Well, I have personal relationships w/ each of my clients, or else I don't do their returns.  Even if I only see or  hear from them during tax season, we pick up where we left off because I will NOT work for faceless tax-johns like I did at the firm.  I will NOT work for rude people, and I won't work for NASTY people.  Occassionally I even fire clients because life is too short to be cluttered up w/ useless a-holes.  I've also been known for charging people extra because they're on my shit list.  Sorry, but it's true.  Lesson: don't annoy the self-employed person you're paying for whatever service.  Either cut 'em loose, or mind your manners and be civil. 

ANYWAY, what I was getting at is that these people whose taxes I do year after year are not being silent about titheing.  It would be nice to think that, but considering that they're asking me seriously if they can deduct flowers sent to dead friends' funerals and medical expenses incurred at the Eastside Veterinary Hospital...well, let me just assure y'all that they would take any deduction they could get, and religion has no part of it.    Oh, well!

On the other hand, I think we all take our turns "helping a brother out" from time to time...babysitting, lending a buck here and there, not expecting it back, volunteering somewhere.  There are lots of ways to give that aren't charitable contributions for your Schedule A, and many, many, many of my clients do engage in this sort of work, as well.  Thank God.  I hate to think of what this world would be like if charitable giving were 100% about the tax benefits.

As for me, lovingmy40s, I don't do last minute returns.  I do have a couple or five who have had to file extensions this year.  One who wants to extend hers every year, for no good reason.  If someone has a death in the family or something like that, I'll do a mercy tax return.  But I typically have all my clients done by the 8th, if I can, and I figure that means all the messy ones will be done by the 10th-13th.  Usually it is the clients who can't get here, or can't find their own info, or whatever.  Of course it's their fault (not that I like that term-fault) because I'm extremely efficient.  This is part of the reason why I am so popular, I think.  I know for a fact that my efficiency was what made my time 95%+ profitable for the firm before I left (part of why I left on such good terms).  So.  Having said that, I also refuse to bite off more than I can chew, as it weirds me out and makes me sick and unhappy.

This year I did get a little sick.  A LITTLE.  But I'm already feeling better.  So. 

Tonight...more rest.  Tomorrow, more packing.  Kisses 'n' hugs 'n' stuff, out there in xangaland.

Maybe I'll get profound tomorrow.  Today was a damn good day, freak-out and all, you know?