It's Tax Time

Every year I fight the tax battle--with myself. It begins innocently enough, as I gather the 1099s and W2s and put them in "the envelope." As January turns to February, I watch the envelope bulge bigger and bigger. Inevitable, I notice that I haven't put anything new into the envelope in weeks, and that February is turning to March. That means--it's time.

I spend the next few weeks psyching myself up. Somehow, in the daily rush, I manage to forget to sit down with the envelope to see what's inside. When I awaken at 3:00 am, the envelope haunts me as I toss and turn--it's really time. I'm not one of those lucky people who can breeze through March, and slide into April, gathering my receipts and squeezing under the deadline on the 15th. My neurosis builds until finally, as I see the middle of March looming, I take a deep breath and plunge in.

Notice the personal pronoun. "I" am the one tossing and turning; "I" am the one gathering 1099s. "I" am the one resenting my husband's ability to ignore the approaching deadline. If left on his own, Ron would be filing extensions and paying penalties--and still not lose any sleep! As I aim a few well-placed kicks to alleviate his early-morning snores, I tell myself he's lucky to have me to do all the work and worrying, but the fact remains that I'm insanely jealous over his ability to ignore it all. I give him an extra kick--for good luck!

So I collate and calculate, I list and add, I paw through receipts and cancelled checks--and then it's done. Three or four hours and a box of paper clips, and it's ready to send to our accountant. (You didn't think I actually filled out the forms myself--I'd never sleep again!)

Just to make it official, I ask Ron to sit down and look everything over with me, in case I missed something. Somehow, I can't send it off without going through this last miserable rite of tax time. "What am I looking at here?" my put-upon husband growls. "Why are you asking me? That's what I pay an accountant for." His participation in the process complete, I procrastinate a few more days so I can make copies, then I put it all in the mail. A few nail-biting weeks go by, a few phone conversations with the accountant fuel my nerves--then the good news/bad news arrives in the mail.

Now all that's left is to sign the forms, write the checks (or anticipate the refund) and send it all off. I tell myself it wasn't so bad-much better than last year, I think. Maybe I'm finally getting the hang of this, maybe next year I won't lose any sleep. Either way, I don't have to worry anymore--until it's time, next time!