April 15th, 2004

wombat

Terminal dumbass

Melody was planning on not bothering with even the 1040EZ this year, since between the Army Reserve and dividends from stock she made less than $250 last year. So much for plans. Her konoyaro mother called last night at 11:30 to announce that she'd found a 1099 in her papers that she'd forgotten to give to Melody. A 1099 for about NINE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

Melody had already been annoyed with mama-san for acting like a clueless dolt on other matters to start with, but this really lit the fires and kicked the tires. She panicked and called me this morning asking what could be done. Not much, really. We didn't have the W-2 from the Army, so whatever we were going to do would have to start with an extension request to the IRS, which fortunately has an office downtown. I took a couple of hours off work to walk her through her first encounter with Infernal Revenue. That was actually fairly painless, although we were both disappointed to hear that the ex would only be hit with a $50 fine for fucking up her fiduciary responsibilities and sitting on the 1099 until (literally) the 11th hour. We parted company until 5:30 when I got off work.

After work, a stop at Uncle Hugo's to pick up some used books and talk briefly to Ken Fletcher, and then on to Dulono's for the Arcana meeting. Earl didn't show (band practice, no doubt) and there wasn't much to discuss anyway, so we left about 8:30 for Lois' place to get the errant 1099.

I gave her a piece of my mind in the process, mildly pissed off that her laziness had once again cost me time and money, and laid into her about the lack of fiduciary responsibility (she was her mother's EXECUTOR, for Christ's sake! It was her damn JOB to make sure this stuff all went out in a timely manner!), late fees and penalties and all that happy stuff, which she just blew off: "Oh, they don't do that very often." This to the man whose wages got garnished for six weeks in 2002 because she didn't take care of our 1997 taxes or send the forms to me so I could. Damn her! Anyway, the grousing and sarcasm got to her in about five minutes, which was longer than I'd really wanted to spend there in the first place, and she showed us to the door fairly quickly.

Now we have to send off to the Army for a replacement W-2, round up the various statements from Ameritrade and tax information from the royalty trusts, and fire up TurboTax. I have the ugly feeling that'll take most of the time between now and August 15, and meanwhile the late payment penalties just keep adding up like a taxi meter in a New York rush hour. Great job there, Lois. Thanks so ever-fuckin' much. Just when I thought you couldn't screw things up for me any more than you already had...you start jerking our daughter around.