Sunday, April 10, 2005
Jazzin' the Taxes
It's gorgeous outside. Sitting here, in between keystrokes in TurboTax, I sneak a peak out through the skylight. The steel banded brick chimney is to the right of the frame (another summer project, this, climbing onto the steeply pitched roof to do some perpetually put-off brickpointing) and the sunlight's heating up the roof's shingles. It's 70 degrees. The windows are all cracked open, letting the first warm breezes of spring come in the south side of the house and blow on through to the north side. Neighbours have pulled out their mowers and foul sounds are emitting all over the neighborhood. They are definitely emitting from said writer. Always putting off the April 15th filing date, I'm forcibly glued to a chair, inputting W-2's and deductions.
Why delay?
I always make sure I owe the IRS, rather than vice-versa. Can't figure out my friends and co-workers who seem so pleased and happy when they get their rebate. It's as if the IRS gave them a present they weren't counting on, even though they expect (and receive) it every year. I'm stupid about this; I just prefer to have my money...like now, and then settle up with Uncle Sam in April. As long as I've calculated semi-correctly, no penalties, no interest.
I've tried to explain this to the ever-loving wife. She heard her friends talk about the large refunds they receive; she looked at me to see why we seemed to be missing out on this parade of cash. I think it comes down to the "check" thing.
Now, each April I write up a dummy check, complete with IRS logo, address it to her, and she's now one of the happy millions, enjoying their money that the IRS graciously decided to return to them. Sometimes, I even make the amount out for thousands and thousands of dollars. Once, it was denominated in Euros. I even cash the check for her, right there at that bank in the corner of this room, First Shredder National Bank.
But, it's time now to return to TurboTax land. Crank up the stereo with various jazz cd's. I can only do taxes to jazz. It's the only music as complicated as the tax code. I figure if I understand some of the playing on Coltrane, Morgan, or Walton, I stand a chance with the IRS regulations. Besides, Eastern Rebellion cranked up loud will always drown out the din of the lawnmowers. And if I put on some extra dark shades, the mid-morning sunlight seems more like an early sunset.
It's gorgeous outside. Sitting here, in between keystrokes in TurboTax, I sneak a peak out through the skylight. The steel banded brick chimney is to the right of the frame (another summer project, this, climbing onto the steeply pitched roof to do some perpetually put-off brickpointing) and the sunlight's heating up the roof's shingles. It's 70 degrees. The windows are all cracked open, letting the first warm breezes of spring come in the south side of the house and blow on through to the north side. Neighbours have pulled out their mowers and foul sounds are emitting all over the neighborhood. They are definitely emitting from said writer. Always putting off the April 15th filing date, I'm forcibly glued to a chair, inputting W-2's and deductions.Why delay?
I always make sure I owe the IRS, rather than vice-versa. Can't figure out my friends and co-workers who seem so pleased and happy when they get their rebate. It's as if the IRS gave them a present they weren't counting on, even though they expect (and receive) it every year. I'm stupid about this; I just prefer to have my money...like now, and then settle up with Uncle Sam in April. As long as I've calculated semi-correctly, no penalties, no interest.
I've tried to explain this to the ever-loving wife. She heard her friends talk about the large refunds they receive; she looked at me to see why we seemed to be missing out on this parade of cash. I think it comes down to the "check" thing.
Now, each April I write up a dummy check, complete with IRS logo, address it to her, and she's now one of the happy millions, enjoying their money that the IRS graciously decided to return to them. Sometimes, I even make the amount out for thousands and thousands of dollars. Once, it was denominated in Euros. I even cash the check for her, right there at that bank in the corner of this room, First Shredder National Bank.
But, it's time now to return to TurboTax land. Crank up the stereo with various jazz cd's. I can only do taxes to jazz. It's the only music as complicated as the tax code. I figure if I understand some of the playing on Coltrane, Morgan, or Walton, I stand a chance with the IRS regulations. Besides, Eastern Rebellion cranked up loud will always drown out the din of the lawnmowers. And if I put on some extra dark shades, the mid-morning sunlight seems more like an early sunset.
Comments:
<< Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands
The "Doin' Taxes" Soundtrack! For years, I did my taxes while listening to They Might Be Giants - probably the only occasion I played them. They seemed to strike the right note of cheerful petulance, making my citizenly duty just a little more pleasant, if no less absurd. These days my wife has proven herself to be the more adroit number cruncher, so I play whatever she wants.
Mr. WP,
Tried "They Must Be Giants". Even Tom Waits and John Lurie. While I love their music, their tunes never made it to the "Doin' Taxes" soundtrack. They were too anti-authoritarian and slathered in sarcasm; I probably never would have filed or paid my taxes. I'd be blogging from Leavenworth if these characters were on in the background.
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Tried "They Must Be Giants". Even Tom Waits and John Lurie. While I love their music, their tunes never made it to the "Doin' Taxes" soundtrack. They were too anti-authoritarian and slathered in sarcasm; I probably never would have filed or paid my taxes. I'd be blogging from Leavenworth if these characters were on in the background.
<< Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands
