Because I have no shame, I'm just saying that if you didn't see yesterday's movie, I really liked it, so here's your last chance.I set my alarm for six this morning, even though there was no reason I couldn't sleep in. But today was garbage day, the additional summer garbage day that the town has given us, the day that the Hubs says is "cheating" if we use it. I needed to get up at six, after he'd left, to drag the barrels out to the curb. Not that he wouldn't have, at some point, realize that the two full barrels out there were now empty. But I got up and shoved rubber clogs onto my feet and threw an old denim shirt over my otherwise bra-less ensemble, because I was going right back to bed in a minute and a half. When what to my wondering eyes should appear as I opened the front door but both barrels, sitting patiently at the curb for pick-up. Apparently, he has the ability to, on occasion, get a clue. Neato.
My adventure of the day was yet another trip to the airport, as R has flown to the south for a long weekend to visit friends, and will be driving back up here with them on Monday and Tuesday. (She flew down so she could keep her friend and the friend's baby company on their car ride up here to visit family.) I can't tell you how sick I am of Newark Airport -- excuse me, that's Newark Liberty Airport, as opposed to its previous incarnation, Newark Tyranny Airport -- and its convoluted series of ramps and exits and highways. I can't even describe it, except to say that there are three terminals which surround a circular ..... something, like a ring of roadway, and its endless, kind of like a mobius airport. I always manage to get out, but I believe I have never exited the airport the same way twice. I look for signs that say Exit and then I look for signs that say Turnpike and then for the signs that say North. Somehow, I get home.
Oh, I got a letter from the IRS today telling me that we never filed a tax return for my parents for 2003. Well, let's see. My mother died in 2002, so that ought to let her off the hook. My father died in mid-February, 2003, and when we filed his 2002 taxes, his accountant assured us that there would be no return needed for 2003. Wrong! After talking to the IRS guy on the phone twice -- he was very nice, although hard to understand -- he said he couldn't talk to me anymore since my name wasn't listed as executor of the estate, even though my address is given for correspondence. I think this was actually a screw-up on the part of my father's broker when he transferred stuff to us, but we have no choice now but to live with it. I hope it's not a lot of money, because that would certainly suck.
All the energy is draining out of me, for no reason that I can imagine. Either I need to take a nap -- and it's 5:30, so that's unlikely -- or eat a couple of White Castle cheeseburgers we just picked up frozen at Shop Rite. Now there's a plan I can get on board with.
