Taxes, Revisions, Chocolate and Warriors

This Easter, The Hubs and I decided to stay in the city. Thanks to the Easter Bunny's little helper (aka my amazing husband), the Easter Bunny still found us--but didn't pee on us (we were wearing something new)--and left chocolate eggs around our place.

It's much easier to sit down to revisions while eating a chocolate peanut butter egg. Yum.

Unfortunately, when I wasn't revising, I was doing my taxes. Before I met the Hubs, my dad did my taxes. Go dad!

Then the Hubs took over, but instead of just doing my taxes for me, he taught me how to do my own. Every year I'm sure I'm going to dread the day we have to sit down to do them, but in the end it's never that bad because every so often I figure out where a number comes from and I feel empowered. Taxes are actually not very hard, especially if you just follow along with last year's return and write numbers in the same lines. The trick is writing the correct numbers on the right lines.

After I attempt to write in numbers and add them up, The Hubs and I swap tax returns "to check over each other's work". It's a pointless exercise for me, since The Hubs doesn't make a mistake on his return. But for him, his time is spent punching in numbers, erasing my answers and writing in the correct answers.

"I already made a mistake?" I asked in shock two minutes into the exercise. He was only on line 1 of the return.

How hard was it to add up two T4s? I'm fairly certain there's something wrong with my calculator. It happens every single year, and only on my tax return.

"No, it's not wrong, don't worry," The Hubs reassured me (aka lied so I wouldn't feel badly).

So while The Hubs continued to erase and write, erase and write, I started cutting the pages I needed and attaching them to other pages. With all the cutting and stapling and erasing and writing, for a moment, I had this blissful thought that The Hubs and I were scrapbooking together at the dining room table.

It made it all go by much better.

Then, when we finally finished, we opened a bottle of wine and watched this show, because although it is barbaric and ridiculous, if you ask me Who Will Win: The Gladiator or the Apache? I somehow need to know.