Thank Goodness for Tax Season!
I do not know anyone who loves doing their taxes. I deeply admire those who prepare tax returns for others, for I am one of those needy souls who does not trust herself to get it right–and the specter of being summoned for an audit feels too Kafka-esque even to contemplate.
That said, my dad always told me to be proud to have the opportunity to pay taxes. What he meant was that having enough to give to the common good was, well, good. A lot of people do not have that opportunity, he’d point out. Through paying taxes we help our communities build roads and schools and other important social programs. Where would we all be, he’d say, without taxpayers?
Ok, dad, you’re right. I am proud to be a payer of taxes. The government’s pocketbook gets replenished because (honest) people and businesses pay their taxes. They don’t make a game of wiggling out of their responsibilities or finding/creating loopholes that only serve their self interests. Even though there is always some degree of bloat and inefficiency in bureaucracies, society has implemented many beneficial systems thanks to collective values of decency and support (current political uncertainties aside).
Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich
Back to the central fact of, sigh, the annual ritual of doing that darned tax return. As that niggling April deadline looms, it means marshaling paperwork and receipts and records. I inevitably find myself yet again resolving to improve my recording-keeping system.
Each February, multiple reminders roll onto the calendar, not once, not twice, but several times. I earmark days with plenty of cushion time-wise. Doing my taxes demands focused attention. Once I start in, it completely sucks me in. What “DO TAXES!” means on the calendar is: spend one day bemoaning the return of this annual nuisance, another reviewing last year’s records, another filling in the gaps. Only then am I realistically girded to turn to the questions sent by my tax preparer (a saint of a man).
Over the decades, I have actually gotten quite good at dumping the coming tax season’s records into a particular file. Receipts for charitable gifts. Reminders of things to remember in February (sold a house? changed a business? divested from something? bought some property? got married/divorced? added or lost any dependents? funded anyone’s tuition or health needs? gotten any dividends or interest? have any of them been from foreign sources? what about that old investment that’s starting to bear fruit after forty years?). All those questions! It is a process, but due to decent record-keeping that has evolved over time, I can pretty easily put my hands on sought-for papers, emails, and attachments.
Photo by Photo By Kaboompics.com
The cool thing about my DOING TAXES days is the larger role tax season represents. Because of my real inclination towards procrastination and distraction, it signals a renewal of other intentions. That is, mostly in an effort to avoid doing my taxes, or (as my mom called it) “spin my wheels” I inevitably address a host of other unrelated tasks. Piles of things in home and office that have languished are suddenly front and center. They dwindle during tax season in a most gratifying manner. By the end of tax season, you should see my place! It’s a little thrilling to someone who doesn’t like the mute urgencies of neglected piles.
That’s not to say that on a given day, I won’t open the workbook of tax questions and almost immediately turn on my heel and head into the kitchen to browse the options in the pantry. It’s a wonder I don’t weigh 300 pounds by the time I ship off the intel to those who will finalize my return. And then there are the modern-day frustrations. An hour spent on phone trees, listening to horrid muzak. Getting well into a phone call but then misdialing and losing the entire effort. Eventually, reaching someone who can actually help, only to finally discover that I had that information after all. Putting enormous effort into a missing piece of the puzzle only to discover all that work was for a whopping $8.90 in interest.
Photo by Pixabay
Of course, at some point, the scanner stops functioning. The paper feed on the printer jams. An ominous clunking sound starts up deep in the hardware. Sometimes if you just punch enough buttons, things reset. Sometimes not. And then, a crucial bit of software refuses to work until you upgrade it and then shut down all the open programs and files to reboot the system.
In the end, though, tax season, like all times of year, slips by. What a relief! Of all the moments I love best in tax season, it’s when I ship off the workbook (electronically, nowadays), to My Man Greg. He loves what he does, despite the vagaries of tax law. I am deeply grateful. He is a hero to me. May he never retire until after my final estate returns have been sent!
[Note: This blogpost intentionally avoids the swirl of current conversation about the present administration’s handling of American affairs, including what gets funded with our tax money and how...it’s too much. It’s just...too much.]
