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Friday, February 19, 2010

It's the Tax Man

Every year I dread getting all the info ready to have the taxes done. I'm not sure why, the tax lady does the work really, I just get all the stuff in order and added up. But each year when I face her she seems to ask a new question.
"What does this mean?" she'll say pointing to a number.
"Well it means...let's see. You know I'm not sure what it means. I must have forgot to write down what it means. When I get home I can e-mail you what it means. Is that okay?"

Then she looks at me, as if I was going to prison. As if I was doing a Ponzi scheme or selling orphans.

It's over though, the figures and the big fat folder that ripped this year bulging with receipts. It is over and I'm on to my next folder for this year. Where I shove my bank statements and OSH receipts and rotor rooter receipts and all the crap I think I can take off my taxes until the tax lady says to me "What does this mean?"

God do I hate that question

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