The Tax Assessor

When Rebel announced the arrival of a vehicle in our driveway this morning, I was still dressed in my "Black Dog," red flannel nightgown, over which I was wearing the indestructible green bathrobe (it appears teal in the photo) I had inherited from my grandmother years ago. I believe Estelle Getty wore a bathrobe like it, at least once, on The Golden Girls. Nor had I even bothered to comb my hair, which I hadn't washed in a number of days. And I was still debating whether or not I could get away with not coloring my hair for Thanksgiving, since my roots weren't that long yet. In short, I am certain I looked somewhat of a fright when I answered the door to the person who identified himself as the Tax Assessor.

Leaving Rebel inside the house, I stepped outside to chat with the man, who pointed to my "nice-looking cat" in the doorway. That would be Mark Twain, who had made an appearance perhaps to see whether Rebel and I needed help in defending our home. I am serious. I wanted to say that my cat must've known instinctively that the tax assessor was up to no good; however, not knowing whether the man had a sense of humor, I merely told him Mark Twain's name.

Since I do not know the correct etiquette regarding tax assessors, I decided not to invite the man into my house, even though he asked me twice how many bedrooms and bathrooms were in my domicile. I won't bore you with the details of our entire conversation, other than I mentioned the foreclosures in my neighborhood (apparently, they're not considered in tax assessments, since they don't fall under the heading of fair market value), but I was told some property taxes would be going down. I wonder if all the half-raked piles of leaves in my yard and the green mildew on the aluminum siding because of all the rain, not to mention the leaves in the gutters plus the plantlife in some of them, would contribute to a decrease in market value for tax assessment purposes. One can only hope. Anyway, I joked with the man that maybe I should put up a toll booth on my road, since part of the road is actually on my property, according to a survey I had done prior to buying the place. Hmm, if my taxes get raised, perhaps I should look into getting reimbursed for a few feet of land belonging to me only on paper. After all, every square foot counts!