Greetings, my fellow port swillers!
Got our tax docs back from the accountant wallahs this evening. For the past umpteen years, we’ve always expected a modest refund. This year, it would seem we actually owe a not-inconsiderable wodge of dosh. Grrrrrrr…….
This is the thing. It’s not so much the amount of the check itself, it’s the perception of value for money. I could write a whole damn book on this subject, but in short, I don’t think we’re getting all that much. Double grrrrrr……
Speaking of owing reminds me of an episode back in the early days of married life, 20-odd years ago. What with one thing and another, I had been slow about putting together our returns, and the upshot was that Mrs. R and I had to make a run for the closest open Postal Service facility on the evening of April 15th in order to get our return properly post-marked.
There was a blazing thunderstorm and torrential rain that evening. Nonetheless, the anti-tax protesters were out in force at the mail center and I tooted my horn in solidarity with them most enthusiastically. (I love the idea, by the way, of scheduling elections round about the same time as taxes are due. Goes right to the whole value-for-money thing.)
Anyhoo, we got the forms into the mail well before midnight, with much grumbling, and started on our way back to our apartment. Coming up on an important intersection, we found that there had been an accident and that the cops were on the scene to direct traffic around the mess.
I will never forget this. Having just had Uncle take a big bite out of my not-very-considerable income, I was sitting in a downpour, lightning all over the place, when I suddenly became aware of a County policeman knocking on my windshield with his flashlight and pointing at my inspection sticker. It had expired the month before.
Ol’ Robbo is not and has never been an Ayn Rand libertarian type. But at that moment, I wanted to cold-cock the cop, strip him of his weapons and equipment, and light out for the hills.