Over the weekend, as I was slapping on a fresh second coat of paint on our soon-to-be master bedroom, Shupasaurus walks into the bedroom with a grin that can only mean one of two things: he's just won the lottery or he found the last cold beer in the cooler, when he thought we were out.
He hands me an envelope from the beloved IRS. "Hallelujah," I think, "my tax refund!" Of course, I know better than to say these things out loud, as every time I utter words of excitement about ANYTHING to do with this house, I immediately get shot down, one way or the other.
So, I open the envelope slowly, waiting for those thousands of dollars to come pouring out before my eyes. (This is probably the second time in my life I have EVER gotten money back on my taxes, the first time was when I was unemployed for the better part of a year and then got a $1000 bonus check from the IRS at the end of it. Getting rewarded for NOT working? Thanks, Uncle Sam.)
Here is what the letter says, in a nutshell:
"We have reviewed your income tax return and are holding your refund until we complete a more thorough review... If you have not received your refund or been contacted by us within 45 days of this notice, you may call us."
Here is what I interpret the letter to say:
"You thought your were getting an $8000 tax refund? HA! Chump! Call us in a couple months and we will be happy to send you to our automated line where you will get nowhere. BOOYAH!"
God bless the IRS.
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