Carter made a very nice valentine for me and Ben today at school. It’s a handprint on a heart. The teacher asked him what message he wanted to include.
Here’s a close up so you can see the heartfelt message…
Fortunately Ben is a good sport and isn’t taking it too personally. I can’t say that I would do the same…in fact, I’m sure I would be in tears.
It’s official. We are home owners again. We closed on our new house today.
Of course nothing is without a few surprises or glitches along the way. First off, we did a final walk through the house immediately prior to our closing appointment. The previous owner left behind quite a few things: artwork (not my taste), barstools (also not my taste), a vacuum cleaner that smells like it’s about to catch fire when being used, a washer and dryer from the 1980s, and a refrigerator.
The fridge was a big surprise because it was not part of the offer and it’s really nice. It’s a relatively new stainless steel refrigerator but, since we weren’t expecting it, we had already ordered a new one. I guess our back up basement fridge will be the one he left behind. Certainly nicer than what we would have picked for our second fridge.
The washer and dryer being left behind is just an irritant. Clearly we don’t want them and so now we have to dispose of them. Obviously we will donate to The Salvation Army or Purple Heart or Habitat for Humanity (and are happy to do so) but really it’s one more thing that we didn’t want to have to deal with.
Finally, the closing itself. Ben and I were all stressed out that our electronic transfers from some of our accounts wouldn’t make it to our local bank in time to get the certified check for the closing. After much stress and moving of money, we were OK. [however, I will never understand why electronic transfers are not instantaneous!] After all that stress, the closing still nearly didn’t happen. The network/internet at the title company was down and they didn’t have the documents printed out that we needed to sign. I think Ben and I sat in the conference room at the title company for over two hours. They kept promising us “just another 15 minutes.”
In the end, it all worked out and now we are home owners again.
Anyone interested in a 25 year old washer & dryer set?
…a certified letter from the IRS saying “you’ve been audited.” It’s like a big, warm hug from the US Government.
We came home from work on Wednesday evening to a note in our mailbox. The postal worker was kind enough to leave us a note saying we had a certified letter from the IRS requiring our signature waiting at the local post office.
Somehow I knew right away that it wasn’t a fat refund check. I’m pretty sure those don’t come certified mail.
Do you think I got much sleep on Wednesday night? Do you think I was maybe just a wee bit distracted at work on Thursday?
While standing in line at the post office after work, the guy behind me struck up conversation. He had two notices for packages from Amazon that required signatures. He admitted that he didn’t even know what they were and found it odd he had to sign for the unknown. I offered to trade with him. I would be happy to sign for the unknown. I would gladly take that risk. Unfortunately, he turned me down.
Upon receipt of my mail, I quickly walked ran back to my car where I ripped open the letter. My 2007 tax return had been “reviewed.” And, in case I wasn’t sure what that really meant, the IRS was kind enough to put “audited” in parentheses after “reviewed.” Oh, thank you, I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.
Per the IRS, I owed an additional $420 plus $21 in interest. Geez, if you are going to audit me, please do so in a timely matter so that my interest charges aren’t so high. Is that too much to ask?
This morning I had several phone calls with members of my Deloitte tax team. These are the brilliant people that Ford has hired to help me with my taxes as an International Service Employee. In theory, this is great because I would have no idea how to go about filing taxes from outside of the country. Too many crazy rules and crazy things that Ford does to compensate us for our time outside of the US. However, in practice, Ben and I have learned that our tax advisors are by no means tax experts.
Around lunch time, I received a phone call from Ed, the guy who filed my 2007 taxes on my behalf (NOTE: this is not the same guy who filed my 2008 taxes nor is he the guy who will file my 2009 taxes…why have consistency?).
Ed: I have good news and bad news.
Me: Ok, the good news…
Ed: The fax you sent me came through.
Me: That’s the good news?
Ed: The bad news is that the IRS is right. You do owe them money.
Me: Why? How did that happen?
Ed: Well, we didn’t really look at your husband’s W2 completely and so we missed some things when we filed for you. There’s nothing we can do now. You’ll just have to pay them.
Me: (too stunned at this whole conversation to come up with anything useful) Um, OK. Thanks. Good-bye.
Later, when I could gather my thoughts again without cursing, I did call Deloitte back to make sure they will cover the $21 in interest.
Our corporate issued repatriation handbook says that moving home can be a bigger cultural shock than moving to the host country. I guess the theory is that the expat is expecting big cultural differences on the outbound move and none on the inbound move. This skewed sense of expectations apparently makes for a tough move home.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s been pretty easy “re-acclimating” to the US. There are things from Germany that I miss (see previous post) and sometimes I sound like a pompous ass accidently saying English words with a German pronunciation. (I had the hardest time saying “swine” as in swine flu. I kept pronouncing it schwein /schvine/.) BUT, I feel like we are mostly back into our groove.
What did surprise me is the realization that I was spending significant effort in defending my “American-ness” or defending the USA while I was living abroad. I guess I just got so used to being apologetic about something inherently American about me (ability to only speak English, my nasal “accent,” my large insulated coffee mug, my fondness of peanut butter) or my country (George W Bush, rednecks, NASCAR, American football, large gas-guzzling vehicles) that I didn’t even realize I was doing it. Only after we returned and I was no longer doing it, did I realize it had begun to feel like a burden.
It’s a relief to know that millions of other Americans who shop at Costco have the same large coffee mug as me. It’s a relief to be back in the Midwest where everyone (for the most part) sounds a lot like me. I don’t feel any obligation to defend rednecks and NASCAR fans (I suppose that’s redundant). I will go back to insulting them without feeling I’m selling out my countrymen.
I am American and I’m proud…but, Geez!, why all the rednecks? They are really cramping my style at the ol’ Costco. Their cart full of Bud Light is preventing me from reaching the Perrier.
Ooh! on a side note: it’s so nice to be back in the land of “significant & respected personal space.” No one is trying to give me a colonoscopy with their grocery cart while standing in line behind me at the check out, instead they are just trying to tell me about their own recent colonoscopy procedure. Ah, America…the land of personal space filled with people who lack a filter between their brain and their mouth.
Anyhoo…
It’s easy living here in the US. It’s easy like riding a bicycle. Once you learn how to ride, you can get to anywhere you want to go. You can even ride with “no hands,” listening to your iPod, and chewing gum (all at the same time!).
Living abroad is like riding a bicycle in rush hour traffic. You know how to do it, but it takes a lot more concentration and focus to get to where you’re going. You have to hold on with both hands and can’t afford any distractions. Maintaining that level of focus can be exhausting and so, many times, you don’t even take the bicycle out for a spin.
