Today we are wiling away the morning trying to set up an estate account for Aunt Joan, who left virtually no money. I went to the bank but got nowhere. Now we’re trying to get her accountant to take over. “We need an EIN from the IRS or we’re SOL,” I told him. He is astonished that there would be so much fuss over such a small account. Anyway, now he’s going to try to manage it for us. I’ll have to deliver him some documents, so hasta la vista for now.
So first we went to public offices in one city, and then another in the opposite direction, and have nothing to show for it.
We need a copy of Aunt Joan’s birth certificate so that her continued care at the nursing home can be funded by Medicaid. She’s 90 years old and totally disabled. You’d think the fact that she’s on a state pension would be ample proof of her identity, but no–they want the birth certificate, too. And that’s just what we don’t seem to be able to get. She spent a lifetime prudently saving money, but it’s just about all gone.
Now we seem to have hit a dead end, so it’s time to regroup, rethink… and I think I’ll just go ride my bike for a while.
I can think of no reason under the sun why this transaction should be so difficult.
Mr. Nature is right: man’s stuff isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.