The dog is irregular. Or maybe he isn’t. It’s hard to tell when he spends the day somewhere else, and she doesn’t follow him around to see when he poops. (*waves at Barb*) So for a week or so now, every few days, he doesn’t poop. So I have to obsess about whether or not he’s got a bowel obstruction or something. He didn’t poop for us last night or this morning (I know, it was about forty below zero as I stood outside last night begging “Please…please get busy!” (That’s the phrase we use from the aborted clicker training we did.)) so I’m in poop alert mode again. But tonight he did a lovely one for me (a little softer than I like, considering he did it on the neighbor’s lawn and I had to pick it up before anyone noticed).
So now I can focus my energy on worrying about something else. Like how nailed we are on our taxes this year. We apparently are gagillionaires. I had no idea. But we didn’t do enough stuff that other gagillionaires know how to do to avoid having to pay a lot of taxes. Bill Gates hasn’t returned any of my calls.
One of the worst things was that we refinanced the house at the end of 2004 to get rid of a horrid 2nd mortgage we had and to lower our interest rate. We lowered it SO MUCH that we killed our tax return. We literally paid HALF this year what we did last year. My accountant refused to believe it had dropped so much. He asked me to go home and make sure there wasn’t another mortgage. I’m not sure how I would have missed paying a different mortgage, seeing that we only have one and I’m the one who pays it.
Maybe I’d rather obsess about poop.