Yesterday, I finished helping my grandpa pack the rest of his things for his move today. I have spent three days a week for the past five weeks packing up his entire house, laughing with him, following his instructions (He’s always been a business owner, so he’s more of a point-and-order kind of man, and you just do what he says), and just spending quality time with him. I had to reassure him a hundred times that everything would get done before his big move. I was supposed to go over there this Saturday to help him finish, but his son moved up the date by two days, so we had to crunch big time to get it all finished. Who knew a thirty-one year old and a seventy-six year old could pack an entire house of thirty years? I’m still pissed at his other family members for not helping him at all. He sent his sister a check for five hundred dollars because she needed new glasses, but she didn’t once offer to come over and help him in the least.
Mine and my husbands joint account is still levied, though we did find out exactly why. My husband lived in his home state the year of 2012. He moved down here at the beginning of 2013. By the end of 2013 he moved back up to his home state. The State Revenue assumed that because he didn’t file taxes in that particular state in 2013, that he just didn’t file taxes at all, and put a levy on our account for an estimated amount of what he should owe them. When my husband explained that he lived in a completely different state for the year 2013, they said he needed to provide proof. We dug through boxes Saturday night and finally found his 2013 W2 and emailed it over. Of course they are taking their sweet time reviewing the documents. The levy remains, and they don’t seem to care. I didn’t even know it was legal to put a levy on an account based on an assumption. I had to open my own account separate from our joint account so I can continue to pay bills.
My dad’s health continues to decline. He weighs next to nothing. He’s on three different pain medications, including a morphine patch. I saw a text in my grandma’s phone where he was asking if she had any extra Percocet. Apparently, the pain is so bad that he’s eating through his like candy. Stage 4 Colon Cancer is no joke, my friends.
I think my husband and I are going to have a lunch date on Sunday and then go to the shooting range to take out some of our frustrations from the past month. There is nothing more therapeutic than firing a weapon repeatedly at a target. Plus, I need to get myself more familiar with my gun and my aim. It won’t do me any good to have a gun if someone kicks the door down at home, and I can’t shoot them correctly.
Life continues to move forward at an alarming pace. Here we are, more than halfway through the year. I look forward to summer so much, and June is already over.