The End of My Rope

 This is the closest I've come to throwing in the towel and leaving France behind. 

Everyone is healthy. No crises. It's my own personal Achilles heel that drives me to the edge, tempting me to put it all behind me and return to the States. 

Taxes. French taxes are  currently the bane of my existence, but only for about 12 more hours because they are due today. 

These horses aren't bothered by taxes. 

I realize I'm being unreasonable. I put off doing US taxes, but I got them done while we were visiting friends and family during our five week trip. And on Monday, May 17, the official tax day in the U.S. this year because of COVID, the government promptly removed the $5,400 we still owed in taxes. 

I didn't worry about French taxes, which I thought were due in June. Then I saw that they are actually due on May 26th. I'd better get moving. But since we don't have a tax number, we have to file a paper copy. The paper copy is due on May 20th. That's today!

I joined a Facebook group that helps English speakers figure out taxes, but truthfully, they could be speaking French or Bulgarian. The helpful files are called things like F2041E or IMPOTS deduction for pensions alimentaires. 

Earl and I jumped in our car and went to the tax office half an hour away. We were outside a few minutes later slightly stunned. The man was the most helpful federal worker I've ever run into in France or the US. He gave me two forms and a phone appointment, saying his colleague will call me Thursday at 3:30. 

My hopeful feelings died bit by bit as I struggled to understand where to put the numbers in the two forms I'm working on. I just get so agitated, either because it's about taxes, or money or budgeting, or my own inadequacies. Whatever it is -- I hate it. 

I went for a run this morning, hoping I'll be able to calm the beast within. Derrick is coming over to look at it with me, but really just to offer moral support. 

Whatever happens, I'll have a chance to ask a few questions this afternoon when the tax worker calls -- preparing for a telephone conversation in French, another stressor. 

I'll turn it in and see what the French government thinks. Then I'll start preparing for next year. Maybe we'll pay someone to do our taxes in France. 

Those Were the Days

I lay awake in bed at 4:30 this morning, thinking about the text messages I read on my older son's phone. Sometimes, it's better not to know.
I was going to run, but wasn't motivated, so I walked up to the bank and then by my friend Sheila's house. I pried her out of her house to walk with me to get coffee at Starbucks. We talked about our teenagers and frustrations. I feel like we're making so many sacrifices and they just keep wanting more. I'm working more and more, looking for a third job to pay for college, as I handed over $60 for prom tickets this morning.
I don't have to be at work til noon today, so I vacuumed and gathered clothes to donate to Goodwill. In the pockets of a furry brown fleece, I found five tickets for the water bus in Venice.

Why can't we go back to simpler times like that?
Here's a photo of me wearing the coat in Venice. I definitely think it's time to give it away.

Here are the kids with Spencer pretending to throw Tucker off one of the bridges of Venice.

I'm feeling pretty defeated in my parenting role right now. I wonder what all the sacrifices were for.
But now I need to get ready for work so I can earn enough money to pay for tuxes and corsages this weekend, and college courses in the fall.