Peggy Cracks Me Up. She Does My Taxes and She Has the Best One Liners and Sarcasm In The World.

When I moved to Connecticut I met Peggy at H&R block down the road from where I lived and I've always loved working with her.

"Oh, no," she says when I arrive. "Not you again. Mr. Smarty Pants, Try to Save Me Money, Crandall."

Seriously, she has too much funk and spunk and totally cracks me up. I forgot my W2s in my office but had copies on a thumb drive. She says, "Really? I can barely do these tax forms and you want me to stick some strange device in my machine. I will need to get my manager."

She needed the manager to help her use a thumb drive. "You young kids are too much for me," she continues. I'm lucky I know what day it is and even to put on a bra in the morning."

Peggy was a philosophy major in college and loves to talk to me about Kant, Descartes, Plato, and Kierkegaard. She hates numbers, capitalism, and taxes, but H&R pays her bills. She's a total hoot and smart as a whip. I love working with her.

"Oh, great," she tells me. "We don't have a receptionist and now I will have to check you out. Your W2s were easy. Now let me screw up the computers when we finish the entire transaction."

I would keep Peggy as a roommate should she ever need somewhere to live. She reminds me of George Burns and I think I will bring her a cigar to thank her. Her humor is old skool and totally appreciated.

"Crandall," she finishes. "I hate when you come see me. You're an easy man to work with, which means that when you leave, 24 jerks and imbeciles will follow. It's the way it is every year."

I'm not getting much this year, but am already hopeful for next year after the purchase of this home.

And it's not even April!