Chicken or Feathers
Have you ever tried pulling out one Kleenex tissue and five come out? (Try putting those back in the box) It\’s either chicken or feathers. This means there is either plenty to go around OR …there\’s never enough. That\’s what I call Chicken (enough) or Feathers (empty). And what I\’ve found is that I seem to have plenty of “feathers.” Especially around this time of year, TAX TIME. It\’s enough to make me want to give birth again, just for the deductions.
Okay, big fat lie.
For me, every tax season begins and ends the same way. I retrieve the huge file box that holds my receipts for the year and start going through them, one by one, pulling out any I can use for deductions, and wondering why in the devil I saved the other ones. Then I remember. My intentions were to do a budget and get my personal and business life in order. Mawhahahah…ahem. Did I do it? SURE!
Okay, another big fat lie.
Wading through the receipts, I put them in chronological order, then categories, then amounts. Next step; enter the amounts into an Excel spreadsheet so my accountant doesn\’t have to work so hard for the exorbitant amount she charges me to do taxes. In my mind, if I make it neat, karma will undoubtedly make sure I get a large refund. Make sense? Nah, not to me either; call it a quirk. This method hasn\’t worked for me in the past five years, so I\’m thinking seriously of putting everything in a pillow case and dropping it off at her office.
Queenism: Preparing the tax return and then taking it to the accountant is like cleaning your house before the maid comes. Why do we do it?
No, I don\’t have a maid, I was just giving you one of those…ah…one of those…ah, um, allergies. Whatever.
Sorted and complete, I proudly present the records to my CPA with a request to call as soon as the results are final. I\’m confident the set of Blue Suede Shoe mugs purchased at Graceland are deductible since, as Elvis would say, I was “taking care of business” while touring his home. After all, I did leave a business card in every room.
Once home, I proceed to sweat bullets, sitting in a dark corner until I get the call. The news comes in as usual—I owe more than I made that year. Outraged, I vow to live in a cave and eat wild animals for the rest of my natural born days. However; I\’m deathly afraid of spiders, and the dark; and I don\’t have a recipe for “Bears N\’ Berries,” so it\’s back to the drawing board.
Being a survivor, I play my comeback CD, I Am Woman, Hear Me Snore Roar, and begin research for an improved budget. I give pep talks like, “You\’re smart; you\’re creative; you da one!” Afterwards I spend ten or fifteen l-o-n-g, agonizing minutes knee deep to a giraffe\’s butt studying budgets, cost, and income. Do I finish? OF COURSE!
HUGE fat lie.
Gotta run, it\’s April and time to dig out the box…and my CD.
