Wednesday, January 30, 2013

The Last of the Tax Enthusiasts

"No, Howard. We can't write your liver off as a dependent. Just lay off the booze."
Morning Readers,

I'm glad you stopped in. The only person more glad to see you is the pumpkin cream cheese I've been harassing all morning.

"Leave me alone," it whispers.

"Never," I shout. "Now, get on this bagel.


"Listen, you either get on this bagel or I finish you off with my hands. I think we can all agree the bagel is more civilized."

Stubbornness aside, pumpkin cream cheese acts today as a medium for the pure joy I feel about finishing my taxes yesterday. If you haven't even thought about W-2s or 1098s yet, fear not. Conversations with others confirm I'm a freak of nature. For, around December 31st, my innards are mixed with both the leftover high from Christmas, but also an itchy anticipation* of things to come.

*Itchiness after Christmas may signal a chocolate Santa overdose.

On January 1st, I sneak to the mailbox and peer inside. This is merely a formality akin to letting the ground hog see his shadow. I know there won't be any tax forms there, but the neighbor's have come to expect me hovering over that little door, seeing nothing, then scurrying my pajamas back into the house, subsequently declaring eight more years of not sweeping the leaves off our porch.

On January 2nd, I set up camp on the driveway and wait. If that happens to fall on a Sunday, I brave the cold night and sit patiently anticipating the mailman's arrival the next business day.

On January 3rd, I generally begin the inquisition:

"Hello, mailman. Any tax forms for me today?"

"Nothing today."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Don't lie to me, mailman."

"Mam, there's nothing. And those pajama pants almost look like chaps. You should throw those away."

"Maybe you should watch your talk hole and take another gander in that there canvas bag of yours."

When my forms finally arrive, and all verbal harassment suits have been settled with the post office, I skip merrily to the computer, and fill in boxes like it's my thirty-third, unpaid job around this place.

Would I like money back from the government?
Yes I would.
Any chance I would not like this money?
No, there is no chance.
Would you like these funds delivered in giant check form to your doorstep?

Some call me "overzealous" because I have until April to file my return. But the sad fact of the matter is you can't buy two tons of pumpkin cream cheese in February, if you don't have the funds.

Until Next Time, Readers!