The Taxman Cometh

The first breath of spring brings with it the stench of the taxman. The approach of April 15th weighs heavy on my mind as soon as the Christmas decorations are packed away.

It's not that I mind paying taxes. I understand that living in this republic bears a price. If the skies above me are clear of bombers, if the roadways are free of potholes, if the FDIC is still operational, I'm happy to contribute to the cause.

The thing that worries me is filling out the forms. I'm never sure if I've done it correctly or not. I agonize over the figures from about mid-January until April 14th when I drop them in the mail. I have mailer's remorse that I've not completed things correctly or left something out. I DO NOT want the IRS taking interest in little ol' me down here in Lower Arkansas. The IRS can make life a living hell for years to come.

I figure I have simple enough tax items that a person of reasonable intelligence (me) could get a 1040 filed with no problem. However, even though I have reasonable intelligence, the people who write the frakking tax laws and 1040 instructions do not have enough intelligence to write them in plain English. Sheesh! I'm pretty sure the IRS subcontracts that task to the lowest bidder in some third world country. I couldn't make the instructions that confusing if I tried. Sheesh again!

This year I spent three days poring over the federal nightmare. When I got to the bottom line I owed money. DAMMIT! That wasn't supposed to happen. I thought I had calculated the right amount of withholding tax from Hubby's paycheck. Nope. We made almost exactly the same amount of money this year as last year, but this year we owe a boatload more taxes. Thanks Shrub. I really appreciate that economic stimulus of more taxes this year. That means I'll be spending less as well as everybody else. Instead of giving us all back a check, why don't you just let us keep our hard-earned money to begin with???

Knowing I had to cut a check to the feds, my tummy started developing an ulcer. Then I opened the booklet for Arkansas State Income Taxes. I read through that pile of #%$@!!!!!ing cow poop for two hours. I'm pretty sure the state of Arkansas subcontracts the writing of this booklet to a group of monkeys on crack. Holy Bejeebus! My ulcer was now full blown with acid gurgling up to my tonsils. I had to take a powder and retire to my bed.

The next day I decided I was going to break down and finally take my taxes to a CPA. I was not going to be in agony for the next two months over this unholy bull crap. Whatever she charges will be well worth my piece of mind and far less than a visit to the gastroenterologist.

Miss CPA Lady was sooo sweet. She is about my mom's age. I told her of my agony and she said, "Lay your burdens down child." I thought I was going to cry it was such a religious moment. I now understand the cleansing elation people feel when they find Jesus and get saved. Miss CPA Lady has indeed saved my soul. I shall be bowing in reverence at her alter each spring from now on. And the tithe she demands is far less than 10% of my total income.