April is the Cruelest Month

Apparently it has become April, and we all know what that means. Yes, it means that in fourteen days I will be trying to find my W2.

I don't really mind paying taxes. I use the roads. I consume goods that are shipped on the roads. I like the fact that there is some kind of societal safety net. I don't particularly appreciate paying for other people's brats to go to school, but I do realize that it's better than the alternative (which is having them not be in school and hence vandalizing my house). Unfortunately, the IRS doesn't count my animals as dependents, but whatever.

It's not the money. It's those darn forms. Every year I fill out my tax forms with the assumption that if I don't know what something is, I can't possibly be responsible for that part. Capital gains? I don't know what it is, therefore I get to put zero on that line. Minimum alternative tax? Again, no clue, so I don't fill out that form. Most of the time the IRS agrees with me, although there was one year they sent me a bill for $47,000 which was about $46,500 more than I had. That year I was supposed to have read things a little more closely.

So yeah, expect me to be frantically cleaning my house in about two weeks, trying to find my tax documents under three months of mail.

In other news, I got an email from K-poo yesterday asking if she could borrow my cat for business purposes. This proves that cats are worth something, because nobody would want to borrow something worthless.

I wonder if I can write off the animals as business expenses...