Here With Me

So I haven't blogged in a while, and neither has Auggie, because my hubby is home for two weeks and so we are effectively on vacation. "Out of the Office", if you will.

We are soaking up all the time we can with Mr. Wolf while he is home during his break between winter and spring trimesters, because he will not get another break until graduation in May. It has been glorious. I wake up, and my hubby is in the bed! Like, every day! For several days in a row! And I come home, and he is there! With AugDog! And we eat dinner together, and even sometimes go to appointments and the grocery store and to see our friends. Together!

He's super busy, but not as frantic as he was during winter break when he was prepping for the conference. For the most part, he can work during the day when I am at work, hang out with me in the evening, and then do some more work at night after I go to bed. Not a perfect system, but at least we can cook ridiculous pizzas together and watch Glee on the couch with AugDog in our laps.

As an example of all the thrilling coupley things we get to do together for two weeks, we went to meet with an accountant last night to get some help with our taxes. Cause I'm a property owner, technically. But really just 1/3 of a house. How do you own a third of a house? How do you figure that out for your taxes? I have no idea. So we are taking it to the pros. Funny thing, though, the CPA asked me what documentation I have regarding mom's house and our ownership rights. And I said "Documentation?". His face fell and his eyes lowered for a second. He recommended that I call mom's lawyer. Ummm, yeah. Why hadn't I thought of that? Why hadn't I thought of the fact that I don't actually have any documentation that actually SHOWS that I (or my siblings, for that matter) own our family house? So I've left a message for our chronically slow-to-reply lawyer and I've got my fingers crossed that he will have something helpful to tell us. Because the only thing worse than owning 1/3 of a woefully not-ready-to-be-sold house is not owning any of a woefully not-ready-to-be-sold house.

Ah, the joys of being a grown up. Calling lawyers. Meeting with CPAs. Digging for property deeds. Good times.