Death and taxes

I’m in the middle of taxes and fear imprisonment more than death at this moment.

imagesI have spectacular number skills and love math.  My problem is not the math.  It’s the instructions.  Way back when I was getting A’s in algebra and thinking about majoring in math in college, I hit those, “One train leaves the station at noon going forty-miles-an-hour” problems.  I could never understand them.  As soon as I saw one, my brain shut down and every synapse dashed away in search of a simple x + y problem.   My friend who teach math tell me they are easy to do.  You just make a chart and plug in numbers.  I missed that somehow and, back when I was in high school, one did not go in for tutoring.

So I majored in Spanish.

George always did the taxes when we were married.  Before we were married and I was in grad school and living on $40/week, I didn’t pay taxes because I thought, “I make too little to pay taxes.”  This is NOT a good pihilosophy to adopt but I got away with it because the IRS must have decided I made too little as well.images

One story:  twenty-five years ago, George gave me a check to mail to the IRS.  Somehow it got lost in my desk drawer.  When I found it in August, I immediately called the IRS and explained what had happened, begged forgiveness and stated over and over how upset I was for my idiocy.  FInally I said, “Please don’t tell my husband.”  Must have worked because we weren’t fined and George never found out about this until I told her a few years ago.

After George died, I used an accountant because those two years of taxes were wonky.  Now I feel I should be able to do taxes myself.  As soon as I finish this, I’m going back to sorting things into piles and entering numbers and attempting to figure out the instructions.

I’m not a bit happy about it.