I woke early yesterday morn and yawned into the living room/dining area. I saw CHAOS! A tax tornado had invaded my home.
There were receipts and statements and 1099s strewn about, hanging like vines. There were calculations and tabulations here and there and there and there.
The table was not visible. The computer hutch was not visible. The floor was barely visible. There were papers and papers and papers, wall to wall papers a new style of carpeting.
The mileage log was hung by the chimney with care while the bank statements reclined in a dining room chair. There were duplicates too, sitting comfortably there.
Debits and credits, pluses and minuses. Confusion, confusion the room did spin. I fell to the floor and only saw black. My eyes did open and what did I see, tacked to the ceiling was my schedule C.
The hutch contained the guts of the matter. W2's and 1099's, interest and charitable deductions. Oh MTI and eMi we deem you worthy of blessing the world. We humbly support our local church. In Lupus we remember my wife's grandfather. And Desert Hope may you bring Living Water to a parched and sexually broken world.
Oh Divine Holy Lord we thank thee for hope. The Hope Tax Credit allows us humble servant parents of two college children to brrrrr-eathe in your Holy Spirit casting the demons of foreclosure away for another trip around the sun.
DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. I KNOW RIGHT WHERE EVERYTHING IS. AND YES MY FILING SYSTEM IS SOMEWHAT DIFFERENT FROM YOURS.
Shout it to the east. Shout it to the west. Shout it to the north. Shout it to the south. Shout it from the depths of your lungs bouncing off the roof of your mouth. Arefundiscomingarefundiscomingarefundiscoming! A blessed echeck. We probably should save it, but what the heck.