We are preparing to see our accountant, and he always sends us this little "preparation guide" thing-a-ma-jig that reminds me of why we are paying him (because there's always a handful of important things I always forget about until he points them out). I'm not good at tax law, so I have "a guy". But, have you had one of my cakes, because I'm really good at making those. Cake skills are much more fun, and decidedly more yummy than tax skills.
My husband was filling out the little check list, and one question was "Have you made any changes in your home to improve energy efficiency?" He took it upon himself to go into detail about this one...
Husband Yes. I told my wife to stop dressing like a floozy and put some clothes on during the winter. Now our heating bill is way lower, therefore we are being much more efficient.
Me Wait, what? Does the definition of "dressing like a floozy" change as you get older? Because, seriously, it just does not seem to take much to enter into floozy territory anymore. I mean, my lounge pants, two tank tops, plus a long sleeve shirt = floozy? I wish when I was young and single someone would have told me "Wait until you pass 30... you won't have to try so hard. A roomy pair of lounge pants will do it." I mean, that may have changed my life, having that kind of information. Is there any question on this paper that says something like "Does your husband make you wear a parka and ushanka because he's too cheap to turn up the heat?" or "Is your house so cold that you start to hallucinate that your wife is "showing too much skin" because she's only wearing 3 layers of clothes?" Oy. You know, maybe this is just some convoluted idea the tax man had to ask what your wife is wearing. Now how do you like your answer?
Husband Don't bring him into this.
Me He's the one asking dirty questions.
Husband No, I'm pretty sure that's just you being... well you.
We get to go meet with this