On Sunday while our real estate agent was working the open house we went to Best Buy and bought a flat screen television.
Since we haven’t shopped for televisions since the CRT days we had a lot to learn. We learned that all TVs are now LED, and that plasma is so yesterday. We learned that the differences are in screen size, the brightness and sharpness of the picture, and how smart the smart TV really is.
Oh, and sound. Flat screens have terrible sound. Which means buying a sound bar. At two-thirds the cost of the television. I suppose if you buy a set with a bigger screen and more features it’s a smaller percentage. But still. What’s with that?
It’s not like we really wanted to spend the money, but our TV was old, and when our cable box died after a storm and power outage, we were fortunate that the replacement cable box had an S-Video output, as there was no coax output. We have no expectation that our set-top box when we get Verizon Fios in Hemet will be compatible with our very old TV. We therefore thought it was a rather silly idea to lug that big, old cathode-ray tube unit with us. We know our new flat screen television will be happy with the HDMI connection in the equipment that the Fios service will certainly provide.
And you know what else? The left and right sides of the picture are no longer cut off. Wow! What a concept.
Terry and I have had our taxes done by a CPA since 1995. I don’t recall exactly what triggered that, but I think at least part of it was being a bit gun-shy as both of us were guilty of under-withholding before we got married. As we started having company stock options and mortgage interest deductions, going that route became even more justified.
The CPA we used I knew personally since we had both previously attended the same church. That was nice. When he sold his practice as we were entering the new millennium we stayed with the fellow who bought it. It was a bit expensive, but it provided a level of emotional security.
Of course when one is laid off, one scrutinizes every expense. Given that last year’s return cost us $595, even though it was very straightforward with nothing out of the ordinary, I couldn’t justify the expense this year.
I looked at the tax software options that were available. Obviously, one first thinks of TurboTax. But they gave themselves a black eye. I’m not talking about the fraudulent state tax returns filed using the TurboTax online service. Rather I’m talking about the fact that from the 2013 to the 2014 tax year they removed a number of forms that were available in the Deluxe CD and download version and made them available only in the more expensive Premium version. In the end the outrage was so great that they had to make a full retreat. But that did not leave me with a good feeling. And in any case, I was never a big fan of Intuit, the publisher of TurboTax. I always thought that their Quicken personal financial management software was too annoying and cumbersome to use, with too many unnecessary bells and whistles. I thought they should have been provided a simplified and streamlined version.
Based on the comments on Amazon, as well as a conversation in the online alumni group from my former company, I went with the H&R Block Deluxe version. It had some very good reviews and it was considerably cheaper than TurboTax.
I downloaded the software from Amazon on President’s Day, a Monday, of course, and my traditional day for doing taxes. I spent the afternoon entering data, which was no more work than entering the information in the paper organizer for my CPA. I had Terry check my work on Tuesday morning and Tuesday afternoon I started the e-file process. I began working on that just as Terry was leaving to see the dentist. Before Terry got back from the dentist I had completed the process and received confirmation that my return had been accepted by both the IRS and the state.
I paid $29.99 for the software which included the state software as well and free e-file with the IRS. I paid $19.99 for my state e-file. That’s $49.98. Quite a difference from $595, hu?
Next year will be even easier since I have entered all of our data into the system and the software will import it for next year’s return.
How cool is that?
Movin’ On was a television show from the 1970’s about a pair of truckers shot on location at various spots around the country. Terry and I caught a couple of episodes on the cable system in Cambria when we spent some leisure time there.
It’s time for us to move on, and it’s both exciting and scary.
My focus changes.
Since July my primary mission has been of finding a new job. That has not worked out, in spite of sending out over one hundred resumes.
So we’re getting ready to list our house, and my job changes from trying to find employment to getting the house ready to sell. And that is a big job.
It’s a big change. It’s not our first choice. But it’s what we need to do.
So we move on.
Terry and I have crossed our Rubicon.
On Monday I called a realtor. Yesterday he came over and we signed the papers for him to represent us. Today he and his wife, the design expert, came over along with the stagers. If you’ve never dealt with stagers in a real estate content, let me tell you that it can be a scary experience. Think of the scene in Sex and the City where the plastic surgeon dispassionately marks up Samantha’s torso.
In the end it wasn’t all that bad. It just felt that way at first. They are very nice people and their whole purpose is to help us get the highest dollar value for the house by implementing a neutral look and feel, creating an environment where potential buyers can visualize themselves living here. That’s a Good Thing.
The sale of this house should allow us to buy a house in Southern California, closer to my family and to Terry’s sister, where we can 1) experience considerably lower monthly expenses, and 2) with luck, find work.
This is not optimal. It is not our first choice. But it is the most practical and prudent approach.
The phrase “Plan B” makes sense to anyone familiar with idiomatic American English. Anne Lamott used it in a book title and it has become the common name for a contraceptive pharmaceutical.
Terry and I are thinking about implementing our own Plan B.
On Friday the Department of Labor announced that the economy added 257,000 jobs in January. The unemployment rate ticked up to 5.7% from 5.6%, but they claim that was due to people who had given up looking for work returning to the job market. A headline segment on Morning Edition on NPR included a sound bite from an economist who noted that data point and said that those people would all find jobs soon.
Oh, yeah? I’ve been busily, actively looking since July. So has my colleague and friend Maribeth in New England. We both have solid experience and marketable skills. We both have come up empty so far, in spite of our concerted, daily, focused efforts. It is frustrating (to say the very least) to have promising opportunities for positions that are a near perfect match for my skills and experience evaporate. My final unemployment payment is due next Thursday. Meanwhile, despite all of her efforts, Terry has been unable to generate a decent commission check for many months.
It may well be time for Plan B. Time for a significant change in strategy and lifestyle.
I’m not yet prepared to share what that might look like, but I will before long. Terry and I have been discussing this actively and doing some investigation.
We’ll need to make a decision soon.
I had one of those “duh” moments at the end of last week.
I wrote last June about the demise of our refrigerator and the purchase of a new one. The new one has been all right, but I certainly preferred the old one. One thing that has happened with the new one is that it will run out of ice sometimes. We do keep a set of ice-cube trays filed in the freezer for such an occurrence, but last week I was, for some reason, particularly annoyed when it ran out on a day on which I didn’t think we had used that much ice. I went out and bought two more trays. We probably didn’t really need them, but that is the kind of mood I was in.
It is amazing that taking such an action can trigger a crucial memory. After I had bought the trays (only $2.99 each, and I like size and shape of the cubes), I remembered the reality. When we did our kitchen remodel, the refrigerator we got didn’t have an ice dispenser in the door, so we bought a counter-top ice crusher. But that ice maker couldn’t keep up either, which is when we started keeping ice-cube trays in the freezer. We used those cubes, not the ones from the ice maker, in the ice crusher for my scotch in the evening. I liked that because with our filtered water you can see the crystalline structure of the ice, whereas the cubes from the ice maker are cloudy due to the air being injected when the ice maker fills.
The new fridge, however, does have an ice dispenser in the door, and we therefore gave the ice crusher to our Goodwill equivalent and started using ice from the ice maker for my scotch. So we’ll go back to the old system, but without the ice crusher.
But, really, the completely obvious things we forget so quickly. Duh.
When I was working (and working from home) I would get up at 7:00 a.m., turn on the computer, feed Tasha, and then get started on my work day before having breakfast and taking a shower. The timer on the downstairs light is set to go on at 7:00, so Tasha equates that with getting her breakfast. More recently, being in the mode of looking for work, I had been feeding Tasha at 7:00 and then going back to bed until the heater came on at 7:45, when I would take a shower.
I decided, though, that such behavior was sending the wrong message to the universe. I have started staying up when I feed Tasha, turning on the computer, and checking the job listings that are waiting for me in my email.
I don’t know that I actually accomplish any more by the time I reach the end of the day, but I feel better about myself, and that is worth a lot.