Well, I stopped by the IRS office yesterday and they really didn’t make a huge deal about me being a year late with my federal tax payment. The guy I talked to even thought I might be able to avoid penalties if I wrote a letter explaining my situation. The interest though is probably unavoidable since technically I did have use of the money for the extra time.
Overheard this conversation while at the barbershop with a kid from work last night…
Barber: Shit, if Maurice Clarett can go in the third round you might as well turn pro right now.
Guy getting ready to leave shop: Just tell coach I’m leaving after spring ball?
Barber: Going pro.
Everyone had a good laugh. Later I figured out that the guy was Kevin Grady when one of the barbers called him Kev and the guy also talked about his Michigan teammates. Despite the humor, the barber might actually make a valid point. Grady is going to make a fantastic counter-punch to Mike Hart in the backfield this year and should make UM’s offense awfully fun to watch. Also should help keep them in contention with Iowa for the Big Ten title.
There’s so much I’ve should’ve been writing about the past two weeks. For whatever reason it didn’t happen. I guess I’ll blame the dozen overtime hours I put in at work during that period. I already feel like I’ve been treading a fine line in terms of free time and when what little I have is cut, anything that requires effort suffers. I am an excuse maker.
I had dinner with my dad this evening at the Beltline Bar. He told a story about my cousin dousing tennis balls with gasoline, lighting them on fire, and playing tennis while his parents were gone on vacation. I was highly amused and jealous that I never thought of that as a kid.
About two weeks ago I received a letter from the IRS stating that I never payed my federal taxes last year. I was very much confused by this since I specifically remember driving to the post office about an hour before it closed on April 15 a year ago to mail out my forms and payment. I confirmed the IRS accusation though when I looked at some old bank statements and couldn’t find a record of any large check clearing around tax time. I suppose the USPS let me down, but I guess it’s also my fault for not confirming that my check actually arrived in Kansas City. You see, I have two checking acounts. One that I pay attention to, where our paychecks are deposited and where all of our bills are paid out of. And one that I had before I got married that I basically ignore, which has slowly been dwindling as I occasionally make withdrawals from it. It was from this second account that I wrote a thousand dollar check then promptly forgot about. Tomorrow I hope to make a stop at the local IRS office to see if I can straighten this mess out, but I expect that a “lost in the mail” story won’t fly and I’m going to end up paying some fat interest and penalties. This sucks, but I guess it could be worse. Of course the other bad thing is that I was in such a rush to get my taxes out last year that I never made backup copies. I guess I’ll just redo them if I have to.
Trammell seems to be slowly rounding back into form. We took both dogs out to Jaycee Park Monday night and tossed a flying squirrel toy around. Trammell was pretty fried after only about ten minutes. So much so that he just plopped down in the grass mid-run a couple different times. This morning though he had a little more spark when I took him out on our usual route through the woods. He was more playful with Taylor and burst through the underbrush with more zip than a couple days ago. He’s also been eating like a madman.
After ten days spent in a hotel 850 miles from home I’ve returned with a renewed appreciation for my surroundings. I missed my wife and my dogs and lounging around in my house. I missed wasting time on the computer and watching Taylor chase Trammell in the backyard. It was especially tough knowing that Trammell was stuck in a cage with an IV poking into his leg with no one to comfort him. One day last week Mary walked outside and found Trammell laying down behind the garage with glazed eyes. After x-rays at the vet it was determined that he had something obstructing his intenstines (four times their normal size in one spot). So, Trammell spent the next four days alone and starving while the vets waited for him to get better. Eventually, whatever it was passed, but I hardly recognized him when I walked in the door at four am this morning after a fourteen hour drive. His face was so gaunt it looked almost puppyish again. Poor guy.