Vice has been running a hilarious (and sobering) column for years now called London Rental Opportunity of the Week, which I stumbled on a few days ago; the author is hanging up his shingle and wrote a kiss-off to all landlords everywhere.
Because we’re all about the romance here at Idiot Central, we scheduled the most tender and heartwarming of appointments for this, the special day of love and affection: a tax meeting with our CPA. And because the Sky Pilot is not without a sense of humor and irony, he/she decided to schedule a “wintry mix” of undetermined amount, duration, an consistency, ensuring that every chucklehead with low-profile tires and a fart-can muffler will be out spinning their tires with willful abandon.
Now, normally we are all about the snowdays, choosing to spend them on the couch with a cup of tea and a “Flip This House” marathon, but we’ve been looking forward to this particular day with a wintry mixture of fear and hope. All large-ticket purchases have been put on indeterminate hold until we find out what we owe The Man, and because the self-employed businessperson’s taxes are equal parts logic and santeria, we’re a little concerned that we’re going to have to auction off some internal organs to pay for 2006.
Jen and I have spent hours compliling our paperwork, and she has hers neatly catalogued on a crisp sheet of business letterhead in a clean folder, while mine are listed in a plain Excel spreadsheet and paper-clipped to a wad of crumpled receipts (infer what you will here about our individual methods of organization.) Our CPA, a cheerful woman who has been
wrestling with sorting my personal finances out since my college days, told us to email the relevant info to her and then set up a conference call to get the basic numbers figured out instead of braving the roads. That’s service.
Meanwhile, lest you think the Idiot is a thoughtless cad, I made plans for us to see The Baltimore Opera’s production of the Bartered Bride in March, which is something Jen’s been wanting to do forever. The plot of this opera is a bit convoluted, so we’re unclear as to exactly what will be happening, but I was assured we will enjoy a clear view of the translated subtitles—a requirement, as the opera will be performed in Czech. (Nothing says romance like Czech.) We will get dressed up in our finest threads, have an elegant dinner before the show, and enjoy a complimentary glass of champagne at the Brass Elephant after the production. In the meantime, I will be lavishing my bride with homemade grilled cheese sandwiches and warm soup until I can dig out the Jeep and buy her some fresh flowers.
Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.
Update: w00t! We’re (at least, right now) reasonably sure we don’t owe millions to the gub’mint! Thank GOD.
kiss…chompin on chocolates…slobber…chomp…kiss!