Lucrative Laundry Day

I hit the jackpot!  It was a lucrative laundry day. 

            Have you ever had one of those?

            Let me back up a moment.  The Duppster doesn’t believe in wearing anything twice between washings. Not jeans, not khakis, nothing.  That adds up to a whole lot of laundry.  And since Dupp is a rather large man – size 3X shirts – it doesn’t take many items of clothing to fill up the washing machine.

            Anyway, the good side of this situation is that Dupp frequently forgets to take loose change (and other things) out of his pockets before tossing clothing into the hamper.  Maybe I should check pockets before putting a load of clothes in the washer but I don’t.

            So, I figured whatever money comes out in the laundry goes into my wallet.  Now, mind you, I don’t stick my hands into the pockets to pull out money but just keep whatever comes out naturally.  “Naturally” means it falls out in the washer or dryer or after I shake the pants vigorously nine or ten times. 

            Sometimes, Dupp actually leaves bills, i.e. paper money, in his pockets. 

            No, I won’t get rich this way, but there’s usually enough to enjoy my chocolate candy.   Last week, I could have gotten a whole box of chocolates.

            What a lucrative laundry day!

It's the Match Game, And I Keep Losing!

I’ve just finished playing a game. I lost. I always lose.

It’s the “Match Game,” but it’s not like the one that used to be televised.




We often play our own version of the televised game when family and friends are gathered, and it ends up being hilarious. Like when all players are supposed to write down a color. About half usually write red; most of the others typically write blue.

But one lone player will come up with something like teal or black or pink. No matches there.

Or name something you might buy.  Several people might write clothes or a car or various other things.  If one player happens to select vacuum cleaner, it's pretty much a given that there won't be a match. 

The object, of course, is to score the most points by having the highest number of matches at the end of the game. It’s a simple game that sounds boring but is actually fun.

What’s not fun is the version I keep playing and losing.

It involves trying to match up The Duppster’s socks after taking them out of the dryer. Like I said, I always lose.

I’ve never seen the winner – the hidden “someone” who takes individual socks out of the dryer, then hides them,  never to be seen again.

Aside from always having an uneven number after the drying cycle, there’s still the unbelievable chore of matching up the socks that made it through.

Do you know how many different shades of navy blue exist in this world? Well, I don’t know either, but however many there are, The Duppster found ‘em all!

Not only that, he’s found a dark, dark navy blue that is extremely close to black, but not close enough to be an exact match.

Finally, when I occasionally find exact color matches, I end up having one sock with thin lines and another with thick lines. Or one with ribbing and one without. Or maybe I find matching patterns, but, once again, mismatched colors.

There’s a whole lot of effort involved in matching up these socks.

 

If you ever run into The Duppster and you’re surprised to see him in a button-down shirt with a tie, a blazer and shorts, just know it’s because I want somebody to see that he has on matching socks!

 
~                            ~                           ~

Clean Shoes????

Do you like clean shoes?

I’m talking about really clean shoes – and I know how to make old shoes really, really clean.

It happened like this: one day last week, just about everything seemed to be going wrong. Nothing major, but just every little aggravating thing.

For example, I was planning to bake a particular dessert and finally got started with it, only to learn half-way through the mixing process that I didn’t have one of the necessary ingredients. Of course, the others were already in the mixing bowl.

That night, I realized that I had not washed my clothes, including what I needed for the next day. I quickly went upstairs and grabbed the pile of dirty clothes, then tossed them in the washing machine.

Tired and sleepy, I waited until the clothes were washed, then tossed them in the dryer.

Since I absolutely don’t believe in using an iron, I always take clothes out of the dryer immediately to avoid wrinkling, even on those nights when I am struggling to stay awake and alert.

Imagine my surprise when I unloaded the dryer piece by piece and found one of my brown fabric high-heeled pumps.

Yes, it was clean. It was also somewhat misshapen.

And the insides were crinkly and a bit ruffled.

Yep, I’ve got the answer for getting clean shoes, but I have no idea how to make them wearable again.

.................................

I Just Might Have a Problem With Math

There might be something to what we used to call “new math.” That’s because I’m convinced that one plus one doesn’t always equal two.

Here’s the thing: Karl a/k/a The Duppster or Dupp and I got marred just over a week ago. Now we’re trying to merge two households of furniture, stuff and junk into one household of furniture, stuff and junk.

In other words, we’re trying to make one plus one equal one.

It just doesn’t work.

We had a back yard sale over the weekend. We need to have four or five more, but, gee, what a pain! We’ve also donated boxes and boxes of belongings and already have more boxed up to drop off.

Oh, and did I mention that some of the adult children are using us for storage? I’m not really complaining. I love my children and would do anything for them (within reason, of course.) Still, this is stuff that has to be moved and put somewhere. (Side note to Mom: Yes, I know, I have a few belongings still at your house!)

Trying to make one plus one equal only one isn’t the biggest problem, though.

Somehow, in this on-going two-week process of sorting, selling, shredding, donating, tossing, packing and moving, I have managed to lose or at least misplace the marriage license. And I’m not talking about a “keepsake” version. I’ve misplaced what needs to be signed and returned to the courthouse. I hope it’s just misplaced and not shredded.

We might not need that new math after all!

- - - - - -

Yep! It's Ol' Murphy - Again!

                                                                                                                  
Okay. It’s a given. The proverbial Murphy’s Law strikes when it wants to. It struck last week.

I had a few items of clothing that needed to be washed. I was thinking it was a really small load but then remembered some items that had been hanging in the closet for a long time. They hadn’t been worn, either because of season, weather or my ever-changing weight. I tossed those things into the washing machine as well.

Using only cold water, I put all kinds of things into that load. Once all were washed, I moved the wet laundry to the dryer and hit “Start.”

When the dryer’s buzzer sounded, I hurried over to unload and then hang or fold clothes. (I will hurry to the dryer any day instead of taking time to iron clothes!)

And that’s when Murphy’s Law struck once again. Or at least that’s when I became aware of ol’ Murphy.

There had been a tube of lipstick in a jacket pocket – and now there was red lipstick on every single item of clothing. Not just most of the clothes but ALL of ‘em.

The lipstick is still there. I’ve found a few “how-to” tips for removing lipstick from clothes, although most have to do with finding a single lipstick smudge on one article of clothing before washing and, worse yet, drying the lipstick into the clothes.

One method is to put white toothpaste on each smudge, which would amount to a whole lot of toothpaste in this case. I haven’t tried it yet because the only toothpaste in the house is green gel.

Yep, it’s Murphy again. We’re getting to know each other rather well.

~                              ~                               ~

I Know I've Been Busy, But . . . . .

[With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy and his "You know you're a redneck if. . ." series.]

Some people get bored after the hectic holiday season.  There's a bit of a let-down for them.
I don't know what that's like.  Especially not this year. 
Yes, the holidays were busy, and they were enjoyable.
Now, though, I'm moving (have to be out of my place in two weeks and don't know where I'm going, but, hey! I've got two weeks!)  This, of course, means looking for a place, packing, tossing, donating, etc.
Monday is the start of six weeks of classes to review and prepare for the South Carolina bar exam, so I'll be in classes and studying like crazy, hoping to one day be a lawyer.   
And then there's all of the usual, time-consuming stuff.
So, this brings me to the first clue that I've been busy.
Last week, I had a sandwich for lunch.
When I went back into the kitchen after eating the sandwich, I saw what was supposed to be the inside of my sandwich (i.e. the "fixin's") on the counter. 
I had just eaten two pieces of bread with nothing inside - and didn't even know it!

Easy Clean-up From Holiday Baking

I've baked so many pound cakes in the last 24 hours that I've lost count!

This little area is where I've stuck myself this year to do Christmas baking.  Notice the sheet on the floor? Since I'm always in a hurry and looking for short-cuts, I put a sheet and pillowcase out where I usually spill or drop flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, chocolate and a little of everything else. At the end of the day, I just pick up the sheet  from the floor and the pillowcase from the counter and put them in the wash with other dirty linens. No sweeping, no mopping, no scrubbing. Instant clean!

Maybe you think I'm lazy; maybe you think it's innovative.  It doesn't matter to me 'cause I like not having to do all that cleaning when I'm already worn out. 

Now, if I could just find someone to assemble the ride-on toy for my grandson!  I've never seen so many pieces and parts for one toy in my life!!


*                                       *                                          *                                           *

PH: Murphy Moved In - and There Are Pictures to Prove It!

Murphy moved in last week.

Well, it wasn’t a person named Murphy; instead, it was Murphy’s Law.

The theme for this week's Photo Hunt in blogland was -- well, there wasn't a theme.  It was a "free" week in which anything goes.  I had my own theme this week: nothing goes, and that's where Murphy comes in.

It was Thursday; the final extension for filing income taxes was up – as of midnight. Close to lunch time, the CPA’s office e-mailed the two signature sheets for me to open, print, sign, scan and then return to them for electronic filing.

When the e-mail arrived, I was in the middle of printing 20 sets of song sheets for use that night where I was providing piano music. With 16 of the 20 sets printed, the printer ran out of black ink – totally!!! I thought I had spare cartridges stored somewhere, but Murphy must have moved them.

With the warning about no ink staring at me on the computer screen, I looked at the time. It was around 1:30. My piano engagement was to start at 5 pm.

I left hurriedly to purchase more cartridges. With this taken care of, I returned to the printer, installed the black cartridge, went to the computer and hit the button to restart the printing.

Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.

I checked the printer, the computer, the wireless router. Even made certain I was holding my mouth right! Still nothing.

Finally, something clicked. I printed out the two signature sheets from the CPA, then tried to continue with the last few sets of song sheets. Again, nothing happened.

Since I had printed the signature sheets, I signed where indicated, then set the all-in-one printer to “scan.” It made a noise but didn’t scan. I tried and tried. Finally – and I really mean finally - both scanned as pictures rather than as documents.

But they wouldn’t scan to the computer. Instead, they scanned to a “jump drive” or USB removable storage disk. Such a seemingly simple task, it took a LONG time. While one document was converting to a picture for scanning, I hurriedly got dressed for the music gig.

Then, while the second document followed the same long path, I gathered what music and song sheets I had and put them in the car.

It was about 4:15 when I could finally e-mail the signed document/photographs to the CPA. I sent them, then left for the three-hour entertainment gig.

Somehow, in the midst of all of this, I left part of my body back at home. It’s not really an anatomical part of the body; it’s usually referred to as a cell phone or Blackberry.


When I got back home around 8:30, there were phone calls, messages and e-mails galore. Apparently the CPA’s office had received one of the attachments but not the other. There were three calls from his office, messages from a daughter and my mother – letting me know that the CPA was trying to reach me.

I rescanned the document in question and attached it to another e-mail. Then I called his office to see if the attachment arrived this time. The call was answered by voice mail. Had they given up and gone for the day?

Bear in mind, the midnight deadline was absolute.

Finally, I got an e-mail confirming that the document was received and was being filed before midnight.

Hallelujah!

But I still couldn’t print anything.

Friday morning, I found the installation disk and reinstalled the printer. Voila! There was a message that the document was printing.

But it didn’t.

I went on-line, read the troubleshooter manual, tried everything suggested, all to no avail. Murphy was still in the house!

Finally I tried an on-line “chat” with a member of the tech support team.

We were on line with each other for three hours and thirty-five minutes!!!!  That guy had the patience of Job!

By late Friday night, the printer and computer were communicating with each other and working!

Of course, by then, I was too tired to even look at the computer screen again.

Leave me alone, Murphy. Please!

 

 

Other Photo Hunt participants: here.

Tomorrow -- more about Murphy's Law.

WW: There Really IS a Story Behind This

Yes, it's an old picture and the quality is not so good. The story behind it is somewhat embarrassing:

I do not sew!

Alterations shops are lifesavers to me.Well, maybe this isn’t a big deal to those of you who are seamstresses, but, unfortunately, I am not in that group. I do not sew.

At all.

In case of emergency, I have been known to use Scotch tape to repair a hemline. Otherwise, I rely on safety pins for emergency situations.

So, years ago, when Tiffany, my older daughter, was in kindergarten, I was less than thrilled when she said to me one Thursday night, “Oh, Mom, I forgot. I need a costume for the play tomorrow. I’m a lamb.”

Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Target and such places don’t stock lamb costumes on a regular basis. Nor does anyone else. It was time to be creative.

I went to the closest drugstore and bought several bags of cotton balls. If I remember correctly, there were 300 - 360 in a bag.

Then, back at home, I got a pair of my daughter’s white tights and an old white, long-sleeved blouse. I proceeded to glue cotton balls all over the tights and blouse. Certainly, covered head to toe in cotton balls, she would look like a soft lamb on the following day.

Well, the glue didn’t dry.

Panicked, I decided to put the cotton ball-covered shirt and tights in the dryer to dry the glue.

It worked! Both were totally dry when I took them out of the dryer.

Of course, they were more than dry. Do you know what happens to glued items when they dry like that? They were absolutely stiff!!!!!

The cotton-ball laden tights could stand up without a body inside them! The blouse had arms (sleeves) that stretched out by themselves.

I had to lift up my kindergarten daughter and then place her into the stiffened tights and blouse. It was a perfect fit!

She was adorable and so sweet. Of course, she couldn’t bend her legs or her arms as she moved about on stage. She was molded into the costume.

Funny thing: she’s not smiling on any of the pictures from that day!



- copyright 2008 - Sherry Shealy Martschink
* * *
Other Wordless Wednesday participants are HERE.
Other Wordful Wednesday participants are HERE.

Home-Cookin'

Sunday dinners aren’t like they used to be for many people, especially in the South. Families used to gather after church – often with extended families – for a big meal with lots of Southern-style “home-cookin’.”

Over the years, more and more families have changed their rituals and traditions; many are going out to eat for Sunday dinner or just picking up food to take home or perhaps just grabbing a quick sandwich. Probably because I just like food in general, I enjoy ALL of those options!


Yesterday at church we had one combined worship service instead of our normal two. Since that meant getting there about an hour earlier than usual for me, I decided to make Sunday dinner ahead of time in my favorite old standby, the crockpot.

I put in chicken breasts, French onion soup, and a variety of other odds ‘n ends, which is the way I usually cook. French onion soup makes just about anything better, and the odds ‘n ends? Well, I don’t know exactly what they do, but they help!

Silently, I considered whether or not to turn the crockpot on "high"or on "low" for the chicken to be completely cooked by meal time, but not overcooked. Finally, I decided to turn the knob to the low setting.


After church, The Dawg asked what I had cooked. As I described the food, I could almost smell the aroma of the cooked meal. I just knew this was going to be yummy in my tummy!

What a shock when we walked in at home: there was no aroma. None. Nada. Zip.

Yes, I had selected “low” instead of “high” – but I had forgotten to plug in the crockpot.

Oh, well. So much for Sunday dinner.

Wordless Wednesday: Chef-in-Training?

Grandson Harrison. Do you think he's a future chef?

Wearing the mixing bowl on his head in the first picture; showing the aftermath of being in the kitchen in the second.

To see other Wordless Wednesday participants, click here.

Plants That Can't Be Killed? Yeah, Right!

So, yesterday I saw a headline on the Internet that caught my attention: “Twelve Plants You Can’t Kill.”

Plants that can’t be killed? Now, that’s something that really intrigued me. I quickly clicked on the headline to get the whole story.
I read through the information about all 12 plants. What I figured out at the end is that these plants have not met me!
There’s just no possible way plants can stay alive under my care.


Several years ago, we moved into a home which was surrounded by loads and loads of azaleas, roses, camellias, wisteria and more. They were lush and had been there a long, long time. They were still there when I moved out, but that’s primarily because I never touched them! I looked at them, I admired them, I photographed them – but I never, ever touched them. That most certainly would have been the touch of death.


Family members used to joke that even artificial plants and flowers didn’t last around me. And, believe me, it takes some kind of doing to kill an artificial flower!
One time, just to have some greenery around, I put weeds into a planter. Even the weeds died!


Oh, wait; I have indeed found one type of plant that I don’t kill. It’s called kudzu!
I couldn’t kill the kudzu nor could I find anyone else who knew how to kill it. Kudzu takes over flowers, bushes, trees – anything in its way.


The fact that I can “grow” kudzu doesn’t give me a green thumb or anything close to it.
Maybe I’ll put those twelve plants that can’t be killed to the test. Anyone want to place a bet???

Where Do I Start???

Have you ever had so much to do that you just didn’t know which to do first?
Have you ever been so busy that you just didn’t know whether you were coming or going?

Many of us have those days, those weeks.

Sometimes at night I make a list of things I need to accomplish the next day. Then, I just hope I can find the list the next day. And if I do find that list, I often just stare at it, wondering where to start.

Occasionally, I’ll start one thing on a list, then jump to another, then another, never really getting anything done.

Well, I think Mom has had some of those days recently.

Earlier this week, Mom said she made a list for the day, but it had only one thing on it: “Finish something.”

Doesn’t that just say it all? Get something done on this day.

Way to go, Mom. Hope you were successful!

Happy Blogoversary -- I Do Not Sew!

Happy Anniversary - or Blogoversary -- to me!

It was one year ago today that I started blogging. I've "met" so many wonderful people through these blogs. Today's post is Number 236. After beginning this blog, I started two others: A is for Anecdotes, S is for Smiles and Lipstick Election. There have been one or two others with time-limited info.


Anyway, today and some during the next week, I'll post a few of my favorite entries from the last year.


Below is one I posted one year ago.

I do not sew!

Alterations shops are lifesavers to me.

Well, maybe this isn’t a big deal to those of you who are seamstresses, but, unfortunately, I am not in that group.

I do not sew. At all.

In case of emergency, I have been known to use Scotch tape to repair a hemline. Otherwise, I rely on safety pins for emergency situations.

So, years ago, when Tiffany, my older daughter, was in kindergarten, I was less than thrilled when she said to me one Thursday night, “Oh, Mom, I forgot. I need a costume for the play tomorrow. I’m a lamb.”

Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Target and such places don’t stock lamb costumes on a regular basis. Nor does anyone else.

It was time to be creative.

I went to the closest drugstore and bought several bags of cotton balls. If I remember correctly, there were 300 - 360 in a bag.

Then, back at home, I got a pair of my daughter’s white tights and an old white, long-sleeved blouse. I proceeded to glue cotton balls all over the tights and blouse.

Certainly, covered head to toe in cotton balls, she would look like a soft lamb on the following day.

Well, the glue didn’t dry.

Panicked, I decided to put the cotton ball-covered shirt and tights in the dryer to dry the glue.

It worked! Both were totally dry when I took them out of the dryer.

Of course, they were more than dry.

Do you know what happens to glued items when they dry like that? They were absolutely stiff.


The cotton-ball laden tights could stand up without a body inside them! The blouse had arms (sleeves) that stretched out by themselves.

I had to lift up my kindergarten daughter and then place her into the stiffened tights and blouse. It was a perfect fit!

She was adorable and so sweet.

Of course, she couldn’t bend her legs or her arms as she moved about on stage. She was molded into the costume.

Funny thing: she’s not smiling on any of the pictures from that day!

A New Roomie!

Since it's Friday the 13th, I'm doing exactly what Dana suggested on her blog - posting a copy of the first thing I ever posted on a blog. Maybe I'll have good luck on what many consider a bad luck kind of day. So, here 'tis - my very first post from almost a year ago:

I thought I’d share this news with family, friends and even strangers at the same time: I’ve got a new roommate!

I can’t tell you his name because, the truth is, that I haven’t met him yet. But I know he’s here. The signs are obvious.

The way that I know he’s here is that I keep finding things in the oddest places, and I’m quite confident I’ve not put them there.

This is also why I’m assuming the roommate is a “he”; women are far too organized to put things in the crazy places he has been using.

Lately, he’s been turning on lights that I know I have turned off.

One day recently, he very obviously took my keys out of my pocketbook and put them back in the door, where they stayed overnight.

Sometimes, when I’m in a hurry and searching frantically for my keys, he secretly gets them and puts them in my left hand. Since I’m right-handed, I know that I would not be holding my keys in my left hand on my own.

One day last week, he drank the last diet Coke in the house, so I didn’t have one the next morning. Since I don’t drink coffee and diet Coke is my sole source of caffeine and alertness in the mornings, this was disastrous. And I’ll tell him so when I see him.

Another time he put a diet Coke in the freezer – and left it there. Yes, it exploded.

This morning he really messed things up. He put my clean clothes in the washing machine. The way I realized this was that the washing machine was covering a load of clothes with soapy water; when I walked into my bedroom, the pile of dirty clothes was right in the middle of the floor. Someone put the clean clothes in the machine; he had to be the culprit.

Another day he forgot to flush the toilet. Horrors!

He constantly moves things so that I can’t find them: mail, scissors, pens, even my shoes on occasion.

If only I could get him to take out the trash!

- copyright 2008 - Sherry Shealy Martschink

You Probably Don't Want One of My Recipes

There’s a reason I’m hesitant when someone asks for one of my recipes – recipes that have typically come from Mom.

Those that come from Mom haven’t been handed down in printed form. For example, years ago when I was a newlywed (the first time), I called Mom and asked her how she made her yummy salmon gravy.

Since I didn’t know how to cook back then, I told her to be specific and I wrote down exactly what she said.

I still have that piece of paper. On it are her instructions: “Kinda brown by kinda stirring kinda fast.”

Another time when trying to get a different recipe, I asked her how much milk to add. Her answer was this: “You know, until it kinda looks right.”

That’s the way she still cooks, and it’s now the way I cook. If I use a recipe, it’s as a guideline.

And it usually works out just fine.

Kinda.

Wordless Wednesday (almost) Cake, Anyone?

This little area is where I've stuck myself this year to do Christmas baking - cookies, fudge, lots of homemade pound cakes. But this year there's something new. Notice the sheet on the floor? And the pillowcase on the counter under the mixing bowl? Since I'm always in a hurry and looking for short-cuts, I put a sheet and pillowcase out where I usually spill or drop flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, chocolate and a little of everything else. At the end of the day, I just picked up the sheet and pillowcase and put them in the wash with other dirty linens. No sweeping, no mopping, no scrubbing. Instant clean!

A New List of Home Remedies - Smile!

Ever so often, e-mails arrive with all kinds of tips to make life easier.

An e-mail arrived this weekend from friend Sue Shapiro; the title was "Amazing Simple Home Remedies." I expected to read about various uses of vinegar, baking soda and such. Boy, was I surprised. This is a great list and one I just had to share, so here goes -- and thanks to Sue!

1. Avoid cutting yourself when slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold the vegetables while you chop.

2. Avoid arguments with the females about lifting the toilet seat by using the sink.

3. For high blood pressure sufferers ~ simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure on your veins. Remember to use a timer.

4. A mouse trap placed on top of your alarm clock will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

5. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives. Then you'll be afraid to cough.

6. You only need two tools in life - wd-40 and duct tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the wd-40. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.

7. If you can' t fix it with a hammer, you've got an electrical problem.

Daily thought: Some people are like slinkies - not really good for anything but they bring a smile to your face when pushed down the stairs.

Coffee, Tea, Hot Chocolate - Anyone?

I’ve never tasted coffee. I know. That’s strange.
My caffeine fix is taken care of with several cans of diet Coke each day, including one the moment I wake up in the morning. I can’t get going without the diet Coke.

All of this makes it even stranger, I guess, that I just bought a new coffee maker. This particular one is the kind we had in an office where I used to work. I’ve wanted one for a long time but didn’t make the purchase until a store was going out of business and the machine was discounted.

The coffee isn’t brewed a pot at a time but rather a cup or mug at a time. It’s great for folks who have varying tastes and likes. Some like strong coffee, some weak, some flavored, some decaf. This machine comes with individual little packets or containers to satisfy all kinds of tastes. There are also containers available for various teas. This is terrific for guests when one would like hazelnut coffee, another a bold French roast; well, you get the idea.

And you can set the machine to brew a small cup or a large mug; choose your size!

I’ve never been very confident about my ability to make coffee for guests. Sometimes when I cook something, I can just “feel” whether it’s turning out right or not, based on what I like. I can’t do that with coffee because I don’t drink it and don’t have a “feel” for it.
But a smell for it is something totally different. One thing I’ve discovered is that I love the smell of coffee. The aroma makes it awfully tempting.

I’ve taken a step in the direction of that temptation. In the last two weeks, I’ve started sipping hot tea occasionally. (I decided to brew a cup of pomegranate tea while writing this; see the steam in this picture.)

Maybe one day I’ll finally taste coffee. And, then again, maybe not.

I Really, Really, Really Hate Red Tape!

I hate red tape. When I say I hate red tape, I mean I really, really, really hate red tape.
Right now, my frustration is aimed at IRS.
I’ve been getting letters saying I didn’t file with IRS or pay my taxes in 2002, 2003 and 2004.

But I did. Not only did I file my returns, I got refunds each of those three years.

So, either IRS received what I filed, or, out of the goodness of its heart, IRS sent me money each year. Did I say “heart” when referring to IRS? Poor choice of words.
I’ve written back saying yes, I did file returns. Yes, I got refunds. Please check your records, IRS.

Now I’ve gotten another letter from this particular bureaucratic agency. It seems that IRS is not going to send my refund for this year because the nice folks are deducting it from what they say I owe for 2002, 2003 and 2004 – the same years for which they previously sent refunds.
And with each passing day, interest and penalties are being added.

Does anyone at IRS actually read the mail? Has anyone thought to look at the letter I sent, or did it just get filed as correspondence without being read?

Although I’ve changed names (that happens with marriage and divorce, you know), I haven’t changed social security numbers. I’ve even notified IRS about the name change and reminded them that the social security number is the same.
If I go bald, it will be from pulling out my hair! Maybe I’ll just cover my head with red tape. Red tape seems so fashionable. Apparently it’s the “in” thing – at least at IRS.