View current page
...more recent posts
M is looking after the Rocheblave house for me and every so often calls or emails to tell me about important mail. So far:
The IRS wanted me to know they are not kidding around and are pissed off that I have not contacted them about the remaining 13 hundred dollars I owed them. They said they are going to start seizing bank accounts, putting liens on properties, f-ing me in the bunghole because I'm bad, bad, bad to the bone. Bitches. In the 11th hour I hooked up with one of their payment services and for 33 dollars was allowed to settle my bill over the phone by credit card.
The Louisiana Department of Public Safety is mad at me because I was a couple of weeks tardy in turning in my license plates for the the two vehicles I uninsured when I bought the Mazda. M seemed to think they were asking me for 250 dollars. Oh, so I'm the bitch now. Everbody think I the bitch.
The City of New Orleans is pleased to inform me that they have accepted my petition for homestead exemption of property taxes on my primary residence but that they wanted me to be a street address number that ends in 13 instead of the 15 that all my other accounts know me as. I'm not sure how I'm going to resolve that but the letter writing and phone calling that would probably take care of it don't seem to be happening.
At the diner yesterday my waitress, using no words whatsoever, seemed to think I was turning a little sissy on her because I ordered waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, and a fruit cup for breakfast, instead of my usual manly breakfast which includes a small rib-eye.
And that letter of verification. I still haven't gotten over to the courthouse to get that letter which will allow me to haul trash to the dump. And I need to mail some money to my bank in New Orleans. I need to throw out that rotten peach. I should swim today. I'm going to breakfast now, then I'll paint some woodwork at the big house.