Grumpy

I always hate it when I’m grumpy, but I just finished doing my taxes. Grumpy really doesn’t describe what I’m feeling right now.

The hardest part, for me, is getting started. I’d planned on doing them last Thursday, but that just didn’t work out. First, the laptop needed updating and the security software was out of date. Then I discovered that the promotional DVD for the tax software had expired, so I had to download it off the web, and by the time that was done, so was I. 

This year, however, it only took me four days to get over myself and get back at it. That’s an improvement.

For last year’s tax returns I procrastinated until this year. Big mistake. Not only did I owe the feds, I had interest and penalties to deal with. And absolutely no one to blame but myself. Drag.

Most of the grumpy making events in my life are a direct result of procrastination. After 63 years of this silliness, you’d think I would have learned. Maybe I have, a little. Taxes are filed, both federal and state. I’ll even pay the feds once I’m sure my return isn’t rejected, which it already has been once so far. When the federal return gets bumped, so does the state. I didn’t realize that until after I’d resubmitted the federal return, making a lot more work for myself.

But now they’re done. With luck, when I go back inside (I’m writing this on my tablet sitting on my patio watching a squirrel torment my dog), I’ll be able to submit my pound of flesh to the feds and be done for another year.

I may never get out of debt, but at least the federal government won’t be on my case. Maybe I’m not so grumpy after all.

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