Taxes. Blegh.

I had a tax appointment yesterday. The only thing that I can imagine more painful than the tax meeting itself, is preparing for the tax meeting.

Math and I don't get along well. When someone starts talking numbers with me (unless its: 1/3 cup butter, 1/3 melted chocolate) my brain goes fuzzy and my eyes glaze over.

This year, in total abhorrence of the task ahead, I called my health insurance company looking for help.

Them: How can I help you?
Me: I have a tax appointment tomorrow, and I have this line that says, "2009 Health Costs" and I just need you to tell me what I should put there.
Them: Ummm. I can't tell you that ma'am.
Me: Are you sure? You don't know how much money on spent on health care in 2009? You're my health insurance company.
Them: Well, have you logged on to your account information online? It will have everything there.
Me (in my head): Blast! I don't want to do math.
Them: Ma'am? I can connect you with our IT department and see if they can help.
Me: Aha! Yes. Please do that. (One more person I might convince to do my math).

5 minutes later...elevator music still playing.

10 minutes later...elevator music still playing.

Alas. I think they figured out my plan because they left me on hold for 10 minutes and then the line disconnected and I was left to do the math after all.

So, I went to my tax appointment. On my way there I ate two doughnuts and drank a caramel apple cider.

On the way back I ate a cheeseburger and french fries.

When I picked up an Easter chick "Peep" at our last stop, John found it necessary to run through everything I'd eaten throughout the day, line by line. Not smart.

And finally, we were home. Safe from math and its after affects on my waist line. I'm so glad this only happens once a year.