I finally finished the grueling task of gathering together all of our income tax stuff. I have it all packaged up and the big enveloped is addressed and ready to send off to our accountant. It feels kind of strange to be sending it to someone other than Jeff, the guy who has done our taxes for years. He was a specialist in pastors' tax oddities, so it will be hard to completely trust the company they sold out to until they prove themselves.
I guess I obsess about that process more than most folks do, and certainly more than I do about anything else. Except maybe back when I was organizing my baseball cards. That took a lot of hours, especially when I kept stopping to look up the current values. Hmm. Wonder if I could sell some of them now and pay whatever I'll owe on taxes. Guess that wouldn't bode well with my heirs. The baseball cards are just about the only cool legacy I have for them. Well, maybe they'll get a kick out of the stuff Chris has stored in the attic. It's everything she could salvage from their childhood that survived Hurricane Ike.
Since it was Saturday Chris and I let Mom sleep in. I was wondering just how long she would actually stay in bed, but Chris couldn't stand it. She woke her up around noon and convinced her to eat some breakfast. While she was eating we ran over to WalMart to pick up some chocolate milk. Gotta have that chocolate milk. When we returned Mom was asleep at the table. She stayed up for a while, dozing on the couch, but at some point she sneaked back into bed. Chris got her up around six to eat some supper. At that point she stayed up and even stayed awake. We watched a few of the disaster movies on the Sci-Fi channel marathon. Volcanoes erupting in downtown Miami. Oh, and the Ice Age 2012 one. That was one of the worst movies I have seen in a long time. We should have starting counting the number of times characters said, "Are you okay? Are you okay?" Very bad. Very, very bad.
Mom asked me what time it was around 9:30. She asked last night around 6, but she followed up by saying, "You don't mind if I don't believe you, do you?" OK. I told her I didn't mind, but whether I minded or not wouldn't change what time it was. When we head to bed around ten or ten-thirty, Chris has to convince her that we really are going to sleep. We offer to let her stay up and watch TV, but she shuffles on down the hall to her bedroom and crawls back into bed. Yes, we asked the neurologist about all the sleeping. He said it was probably related to an Alzheimer's symptom. Some patients go roaming and rarely sleep. Others do the exact opposite and rarely stay awake. She is apparently in category two. I think if I had a choice I'd pick the roaming. At least I wouldn't miss anything. Although catching up on a lifetime of missed sleep certainly has its plusses.
Isaiah 65:1 says, "I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me. To a nation that did not call on my name, I said, 'Here am I, here am I.'"
Father, would you do that again? I know a nation or two that could sure use your presence. Amen.
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