*ahem* THE FUCKERS. OH THE FUCKING FUCKERS. I am, uh, extremely ADD. In the last 34 years, I've developed a not insubstantial set of ADD survival skills. I file my taxes months in advance. Today, April 15th, I received a call at 4:20PM (heh) from my tax accountant's secretary, who condescendingly informed me that she was giving me "one last chance" to get my signed forms back to her. I said "What!?!" I looked at the packet I got back from them last week and noted that there were in fact two forms that had small marks in black pen where I needed to sign. There was no letter explaining I had to send these back, nor any marks with a highlighter or those cute arrow stickers my insurance company uses on forms. Also, there was no communication from said accountant previous to this afternoon. Yes, I looked at the paperwork when I opened the packet last week, and I probably should have noticed the marks, but honestly paperwork like this makes me go blank unless there's something screamingly obvious on it. Furthermore, I did sign two articles when I was at the accountant's office last month. I had some additional issues this year (mumble "numbers not final" mumble) that necessitated additional signatures, apparently.
So this afternoon, at 4:30, I had to frantically find a place with a fax machine. The postage shop I've favored for years went out of business last summer, and my DVD rental store owning friend no longer has a fax machine. Fortunately, a new postage store has moved in to the old place's location. They're called "Goin' Postal" appropriately enough. Luckily for me, the store was dead and it took less than 10 minutes to fax the documents, get a transmission confirmation and receipt. Disaster averted.
When I get back from Martha's Vineyard next month I am finding a new fucking tax accountant.
