Actions, Not Intentions, Finally get Tax Forms Done

This year was going to be different. I wasn’t going to be overwhelmed searching for receipts, 1099s and bank statements, all things essential to fill out the 1040A and 1040 tax forms.
This year I was going to be organized. I wasn’t going to let the first two weeks of April rush past me faster than you can say “Schedule 1” as I played the beat-the-clock with Wednesday’s deadline for my income tax filing.
But my good intentions didn’t organize my charitable contributions; they didn’t wade through my receipts searching for my car tax statements; and as well-intended as they might have been, these good intentions didn’t add up my medical bills and subtract the insurance payments.
As is their custom, good intentions don’t amount to a deduction on any line between 6a through 24c. Actions usually garner a better return just like 401k. So I took action.
After the beginning of 1992 I began collection all the mail which indicated it had something to do with the Internal Revenue Service.
I used a box that was left over from transporting my groceries from a warehouse store to house the mail stamped “important – save for income taxes.”
The box was wide and long and I could easily fling into it all the W-2s, 1099s and deductible interest statements our family racked up in 1991. I sat on the floor of my office accumulating papers.
Every time I sat down to do some work I felt a kinship to the princess who had the problem sleeping on the pea. The job of reconciling last year’s spending hung undone in the air surrounding me, and I couldn’t relax. Although, I wonder if the source of her anxiety was not the pea but that she was anxious to marry the prince because most royalty doesn’t have to file tax returns.
Finally, it was time to face the music – although I’m not sure what melody the IRS plays. I imagine a dirge would be appropriate. I went through all the checks we wrote in 1991. I put them in a pile. Then I decided to be fancy and I entered into the computer each check according to category, payee and amount. It seemed an efficient system, but it was taking too long.
I eliminated all the car repair bills when my accountant told me they weren’t deductible. I argued that they should be especially when the most expensive damage occurred while I was driving to do volunteer work. I didn’t want to be late so I ignored telltale warning lights, which I now know indicate imminent catastrophe. Apparently, stupidity isn’t deductible either. Too bad.
How about expenses incurred while undergoing temporary insanity? I had a lot of those. For example, what about the night we made two orders of takeout Chinese food. Shouldn’t one of these dinners for 10 be deducible? I think we were working on the 1990’s taxes that night and not intellectually engaged.
What about the disastrous clothing purchases? Shouldn’t the outfit I bought for my girls for Christmas that were worn just long enough to make me happy and worn too long to be returned be deductible?
OK how about a deduction for the new clothes I bought for myself? A girl’s got to have something nice to wear in case she’s called in for an audit. Right?
April 14, 1992