Bonus Day:(

I hate that time of the month.  You know.  Well it use to be PMS for me.  Before my eggs were radiated into oblivion a couple years ago and put me into menopause, I would give my family a heads up when that day or two would arrive and I know I would grow two heads.  I figured I gave them warning and if they were stupid enough to get anywhere near me, well it was their own fault.

Now I am not saying my husband has PMS, but every month, between the 29th and the 2nd, he gets well, cranky.  A few years ago, the warning is when he would get a stack of mail, envelopes, checks and stamps together.  Now, because he pays most on-line, it is when the computer is set on the kitchen table and he has a stack of mail.  This is all of the rest of the family's cue to run...........run for the hills.  It kinda reminds me of the deer running from the aggressive cheetah.  It just isn't pretty.

 

You always know what bill he is paying at any given time.  Me, huddled in the bedroom can still hear him.  It goes something like this.  "What?  What???? What did you buy last month?".........The credit card bill.  Him muttering under his breath "Damn kids"........Car insurance.  " Do I have to teach everyone how to turn off the lights?"........Electric bill.  And my longtime favorite, "Does anyone know how to put a sweater on.  Is it that hard?"............Natural Gas bill. 

This is his ritual.  And it is the rest of the family's job to just get out of the way.  But we get a bonus day.  It is the one extra day of the year that sometimes gets uglier than all the others put together. 

Tax Day!!  Once in a while, a few years back, we would take everything to a tax man.  But every time we did this, LL would review it and find things that were missed.  So he has decided to just do ours and the kids taxes. 

While Beau was being groomed, I went and cleaned Marlin,(clear out of the house)  while LL did our taxes.  The older and one by one as the kids were no longer dependants, it has gotten more painful.  On top of that, he does the kids taxes.  He is a Saint.  A grumpy Saint, but a saint no less.