Well hello, Uncle Sam



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Tonight we're getting our taxes done, oh joy.  This is actually a little *late* in the year for us.  We like to get things overwith.  At least we opted not to do it on Valentine's Day.

We've seen the same accountant the entire time we've lived in this area - an older, retired gentleman who spends the year fixing up his antique corvette and doing who-knows-what, then resurfacing in time to do taxes from January - May.  His name is Glenn and each year we're like, "GLENNNNNNN, MY MAN!  You gonna give us some good news?  We gots ta have some cash, GLENNNNNN."

He smiles calmly, licks his forefinger and thumbs through our paperwork.  Softly pecks the computer keyboard while we sit there in perplexed silence.  Waiting.

You people who do your own taxes amaze me.  Basic math is a mystery to both G & I.  Turbo Tax, blah blah.  I assure you if we tried to do our own taxes, we would 1) get divorced, 2) move to another country to avoid having to do it ever again.

I understand that there's a method to income tax, deductions on work tax forms, etc.  I understand conceptually that this is supposed to make sense.  But, as G says, it's really all witch craft and sorcery.  We look for chicken bones and entrails under Glenn's desk to see how he's really coming up with these numbers.

So tonight, we're gonna be all, "Come on GLENNNNNNN!"

"Come on BIG MONEY!"  (He's like, you know it's your money, right?  This ain't Vegas.)