"WTF, there is no vacant lot around here except...."
I compared the number on the card to the number on the only tax document I have for the "east 40", and it matched.
I didn't have time to deal with it in detail, but I scanned the postcard and e-mailed it to my siblings and went to my appointment.
My oldest sister (who wrote the checks for the property taxes, and who has the documentation for same) called the county. It turns out that--for whatever reason--the taxes on the "east 40" haven't been paid since 2007. It further turns out that--for whatever reason--no one bothered to notify us.
...so I get to haul another $1,000 out of my IRA tomorrow to pay my share of the taxes on the lot.
That makes a total of about $3,500 that I've had to pull from my IRA just to pay taxes. Jesus Christ! Didn't we have a revolution or something in 1776 because of shit like this?
...the one useful thing I learned from the one sociology class I took in college is that--after a revolution--the new regime invariably is just as bad as the previous one. Sometimes it just takes longer to show up.
Like the bunker itself, the east 40 is in trust. Guess which bank holds the trust?
CHARTER ONE, WITH WHICH YOU SHOULD NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, E_V_E_R DO BUSINESS BECAUSE THEY ARE A BUNCH OF FREAKING MORONS.
This is the second time those assholes have screwed up with regards to my parents' estate. Good God, how the hell do they manage to tie their own shoes?
* * *
Because of this, I ended up having a bacon mofo for dinner instead of cooking anything; I expected to have to be digging into paperwork for the next four hours and did not anticipate having time to cook. How annoying.
...but the problem has been resolved: my sister is sending them a check and the rest of us are sending her money for our portions (hence me having to metaphorically bust my piggy bank again).
* * *
Wow, something just went *bang* outside. Sounded like a shotgun. I wonder if a line fuse blew?