Friday, February 20, 2009
Taxes With Zeke
She says that going to get her taxes done each year feels like a trip to the confessional. I agree that it is quite stressful to think about in advance, but once we are in our CPA’s office, tucked into our respective chairs, we are as content as two clams. John is “Mr. Virginia” personified: charming as all get-out and possessed of a wicked sense of humor. I don’t pay any of my other friends for a pleasant hour spent in their company, but if I had as good a time with them as I have at John’s office once a year, I might think about it. It helps to have a friend who tells you that you don’t owe the government anything and you’re getting enough money back to celebrate with a hot dog lunch at Melito’s.
Mostly, She sits in her chair and muses out loud about whatever or whomever happens to be running through her mind at the moment, I play straight woman, and John manages to participate without ever looking up from his Dell laptop.
She: You know, Gerald is only 80.
Me: What do you mean, only 80?
She: He acts like he’s 103.
John [typing]: If yew ah 103, yew don’ act lak anythin’. Yew jus’ lay theah.
Today we finally got to meet Zeke, John’s wonderful English terrier. We’ve admired his photos for six years, but never got to meet the guy in person. Isn’t he a prince? Don’t tell Pancho.