Mail piles up after three months. Having a residence in the USA inevitably attracts an abundance of paper mail, junk and otherwise. Not that envelopes, magazines, and catalogs were spilling out of the mailbox, (GV kept neat and organized file piles), but there were tax documents to organize and submit. It doesn’t matter your income level, filing taxes, whether you owe them or not, is a federal law, an obligation much less painful when it’s not in the delinquent category.
Those who are not from the USA don’t understand the big deal about the annual tax filing ritual. Suffice it to say, filing by the tax deadline of April 15, no matter where in the world you live, is the path of least resistance.
Yes, I could have done the mail and taxes remotely albeit with more effort, but a change of scenery for a few days keeps perception in check. What I hadn’t planned on the day after I arrived was having my identity hacked.
On top of an already packed week, I was forced to close all my bank accounts (business and personal) and open new ones, file a police report in person at the local precinct (yes, it’s like you would imagine from tv), notify credit agencies, and run around trying to retrieve my hijacked cel phone number which I’ve had for 14 years. Someone evidently hacked my laptop, gained access to my bank accounts, and was also able to move my phone number to another carrier. It was, and still is, rather tedious. The world has no shortage of scheming mf’s.
In any event, the week back in New York City was, no joke, a breath of fresh air.