Lughnasa Waning Harvest Moon
So. Yesterday I got up, got ready to go into the museum, got in the car and got no engine love. Click. Click. Click. Of course, I only had adequate time to get there since I never leave early. What to do? I put the charger on it and got back…wait for it. An error message meaning the battery won’t take a charge.
Anyhow we have that new Rav4. I hopped in it and made it on time. Or close enough.
Got home after a long stint at the museum in time that Kate could go to work in the Rav4.
What greets me at the kitchen table? A nice note from the IRS saying they had checked our 2009 return, 2009?, and now feel we owe the government an additional $45,000. Say what? The letter of “explanation” did not communicate in any language I understood. WTF? OMG. Well, a good thing we pay that accountant to handle this kind of stuff. Could ruin a perfectly bad day.
While I read this cheery note, Mark says, “Rigel’s bleeding.” Uh, huh. A small nick on the ear. Unimportant.
Earlier, I discover, the Saudi embassy wants Mark to take an HIV test. Good thing we have a doctor in the house. Kate circles the HIV results on the lab work already sent. Oh.
Also, some power of attorney for somebody for some purpose seems to be needed, requiring yet another communication back to Saudi, which will produce an e-mail to Mark, which he will then sign and Fedex to Travisa which will then hand it to the Saudi Embassy in Washington. Geez.
Other than that Mrs. Lincoln…