Friday, January 17, 2014

Because I'm Not a Tax Man

"Remember to buy your monkey suspenders so you can pass them off as a dependent."

Morning Readers,

Well, it's Friday. Which means absolutely nothing to me because I thought today was Saturday and had to ask Husband for some clarification.

Ugh, I don't even know how I'm going to write this post, I'm so distracted by Salvador Perez pressing his face against the front window and mewing like we never feed him and don't let him sleep in the warm basement, on a couch he has all to himself.  That cat has no responsibilities. He really needs to get a job and stop staring at me.

*Goes to get coffee and ignore possessed animal*

Ok, the cat left, so I can get back to the grind, which more or less includes feeding the children and preparing excuses for my tax person. Normally, I do our taxes, and I relish every single deduction I'm guessing we can take, but this year I'm handing over the reigns to a professional.  Husband's relieved, if only for the reason we don't have to have this conversation anymore:

"So, you finished the taxes?"
"Yep!"
"And you think everything was done right?"
"Maybe!"

I have faith in my ability to answer yes or no questions on an automated program, but there are certain complications this year prompting me to call people who don't do taxes in a bathrobe, while wearing leopard print slippers and yelling, "Who turned the thermostat to ninety?" My only concern hinges on how much explanation I'll need to do with the person I get the all important appointment with.

Tax Person:  So, when it asked if you were single or not, you've said "yes" for the last five years?"

Me: Yeah, for one reason or another, Husband and I are usually fighting during tax season, so I get a little passive aggressive.

Tax Person: And it says here you claimed twelve dependents last year.

Me: Yes.

Tax Person: You only have three children.

Me: But it feels like I have twelve.

Tax Person: Mrs. Kellerman?

Me: Yes?

Tax Person: You can't write off things you buy at the liquor store.

Me: Those are business expenses.

Tax Person: You don't own a business.

Me: You're obviously not aware of how much booze it takes to run our little abode.

It's a work in progress. Mostly, I'm still waiting on W2s and 1099s and someone to pull the cat away from the window. The actual conversation I have when sitting down with the professionals should be ten times more horrifying. I'll keep you posted.

Until Next Time, Readers!






9 comments:

  1. You might want to consult with a tax expert, a real one. Somehow I don't think your approach will work well.

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    1. Yep, definitely going to need someone certified in taxes and certified in trying to interpret frazzled mothers.

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  2. You just described by 'Doing the Taxes' outfit to a T. Someday if I ever make money doing this writing thing I may hand off the taxes to my husband.


    BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

    Sorry, sometimes I crack myself up.

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    1. If you don't brush your hair beforehand and eat a box of donuts at the same time, we're practically twins.

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  3. LOL. Hubby and I actually schedule in our Tax Day Argument. It goes better for us now that we don't have cats. :)

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    1. We're so busy these days, scheduling our fights is next on the to-do list.

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  4. Paige, you done sucked me in with this post. You had better post an update with a blow-by-blow of the real convo with Mr. Tax Man. In fact, I'm subscribing to your blog just so I won't miss it...and this line here: But it feels like I have twelve. I feel you, Paige...I feel you. Based on our last correspondence on Twitter, you *know* how I feel about that.

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    1. Oh, I'm for sure going to keep track of the advice I actually get. Because, if there's a way I qualify to claim twelve dependents, I'm all ears. And thank you so, so much for following this ridiculous corner of the internet!

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