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The edge of taxes
New Year, old thoughts. In January, I—once again, start thinking about my good friends at Revenue Canada. At this time of the year I don’t give them too much mental real estate, but I do start to get just a wee bit anxious about the process of filing an income tax claim. LOML and I used to employ a bookkeeper to help us jump through the hoops, but the person we have known and trusted for years has retired. Instead of looking for another person who didn’t mind our Ziplock bags of receipts and a spreadsheet of the past year’s expenditures and income, we decided to go with what we refer to as DiscTax. Y’all know the software you purchase in stationery stores? We use one of those programmes. We actually purchase the “in hand, into the computer” disc. We aren’t “there” yet when it comes to a programme download.
Every year, after a day of messing around with DiscTax, we promise ourselves we’ll keep a better spreadsheet to go with all of those receipts. We haven’t done that yet, but at fifty-nine years of togetherness it’s still early in our relationship. And, every year since we started using DiscTax, we’ve promised ourselves we’d pick a day, get it done, press send and get on with our lives. Part of our promise is to get it all done as early as possible. Well, if you know me, and you don’t, early doesn’t always happen as regards filing income tax. I’m a bit of a deadline person. I “scurryfunge”— look that up in your Merriam-Webster. When I was a teenager, I’d spend two days getting ready for a date by sewing a new outfit— last minute stress seems to be a thing. I was a study crammer for exams. I was/am a procrastinator, extraordinare! So, back to taxes, I’m like a lot of all ya’ll in that regard. I am irritated by the process, the planning (or not planning), I shake when the final total pops up. And I wonder why we have to do it. No, I don’t mean what becomes of our tax dollars. What I mean is, if you make a mistake on your tax return the federal government seems to know right away. If they know so much about a person, and I believe they do, why not just send us a bill? If we think it’s excessive, then we could just pay up or drag the Ziplock files out and prepare a dispute of their claim. Or better yet, why not just have a flat rate? If we look at that flat rate bill and decide it’s too high (or too low, LOL) then we file our evidence to prove the contrary. Filing our annual income tax return is just so headachy and complicated. While I don’t like people who talk about the good old days, I remember the “good old days” when the Personal Income Tax Return papers were available at a Post Office and probably had about six pages. I want that if I can’t have a flat rate. Six pages. I didn’t mind “doing my taxes” then. Heck the Feds even sent a return envelope. And I remember how excited I was when I got a whopping twelve-dollar refund of my overpayment.
Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t feel like this every January if I just kept a neat ledger of income and expenses—like the ones that earned me 100 per cent in Accounting 301. And I know I might be just a bit paranoid about the process and have a conspiracy theory or two in the back of my mind with regard to how much the federal government knows about me—and I think they do know me. However, there isn’t anything as inevitable as death and taxes. Right now, I’ll take “taxes”. I must enjoy the irritation of the process I’ve created for myself or I’d do something about it. Right? I’m just a gal who likes living on the edge of edginess.
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