Friday, April 2, 2010

The Dreaded Tax Man

Today is the official beginning of my spring break, ten glorious days with no job-related responsibilities whatsoever. Ahh! It is beautiful outside here in north Georgia, with a high of 83 degrees in the forecast. For the first time in months, I am warm. Mmm! I am longing to get reacquainted with my deck chair and soak up some sun, then don a strappy dress and a pair of flip flops and go sit on a patio somewhere and enjoy a margarita. Or two.

Instead with April 15th less than two weeks away, I have to get started on my income taxes.

"It's tax time. I know this because I'm staring at documents that make no sense to me, no matter how many beers I drink."
~Dave Barry

My friend Pat is flying in from Madison, Wisconsin late Tuesday night to spend the second half of spring break with me, and I am determined to get this dreaded job done before she gets here. Since I am self-employed, the task is unnecessarily complicated. It doesn't help that, although I keep thorough records throughout the year, I don't keep them in a very organized fashion. So I am facing a mountain of receipts and paperwork that must be sorted through and summed up before I can even go to my tax preparation software. It isn't that it's difficult; it's tedious and time-consuming. I would rather be doing something else. Enjoying this beautiful spring weather. Reading. Writing. Beading.

Having a root canal.

So here I go. If you don't hear from me for a few days, you will know why.

Happy Easter! Happy Spring!


pat said...

Yeah! Exactly! This resistance to the tax man sounds sooooo familiar. I tried to simplify my life. I used the tax software. I'm sending it electronically. The numbers have been crunched and calculated. I am even getting a REFUND. I was as good as done a week ago. All I had left to do was hit the "Print" and "Send" keys. It'd be all over. But, noooooo. HAVING MY TOENAILS PULLED OUT WOULD BE LESS PAIN.
And you know what is even worse? I'm stalling even longer by writing this. I could be packing my carry-on for Atlanta! How sick is that, Pam????

Pam said...



Start packing that bag!