Christmas is over, it's a new year....you know what that means? Time for taxes! Hooray! My yearly bonus! For every year I've worked (read:every year of my adult life), I've gotten a nice return. That's one of the benefits of birthing and raising all of my little angels.
Every year I tell myself that I'm going to be responsible with it, I'm going to save at least half, I'm going to pay off my car (which has less than 3k left to go, woohoo!), I'm going to fix the mirror and antenna on said car (don't ask), I'm going to do all kinds of super responsible things and not blow it. But, I'm a sagittarius, I crave adventure, so like every year I'll probably just go ahead and fucking blow it. This year we're booking a trip for all of us to a certain fun place in a certain southern California. (The kids are not supposed to read my blog, but in case they don't listen, I don't want to ruin the surprise). I am way excited. Patrick and the kids have never been, and the last time I went I was 4.
I'm uber-impatient, and want to start planning and booking and all that fun, spendy spendy stuff, so I'm chomping at the bit, waiting and watching the mail every day for my w-2, so I can rush off and spend like $150 just to get my refund the next day. Because, let's face it, I have no patience, and it costs me.
1 hour ago