There are two things that are going out of style for me.
Doing my taxes, and sending faxes.
Both are a huge headache that even a cup of tea doesn’t help.
I believe in taxation, I really do. I even understand why the Philosopher and I have to file for the US despite having fled the country three years ago.
But believing in and understanding a thing just ain’t the same as doing it.(*Now, for faxes, I no longer believe in nor understand their persistent existence, but that’s a rant for another day).
We turboed through our taxes last night however, and bravely so. We started in the daylight hours and stocked up on chocolate covered digestives and Hobnobs, tortilla chip and Cadbury’s: all worthy tax-filing foodstuffs.But night fell, a second Mac had to be fired up, and we were flagging. Our IKEA Jokkmokk table was flooded with unwanted papers and a half-eaten leftover quesadilla (open-faced quesadillas: we’re hoping to start a new trend.) The Philosopher spent a brief spell face-down on the sofa.
He pepped up however (an open-faced quesadilla can do that for a body) and, a mere three hours later, we were finished. Sadly, TurboTax wouldn’t let us e-file because it refused to believe that my working address was did not have a State in the address field. Sometimes the US is so egocentric. We stifled cries of injustice and calmly printed out the full return before slumping together in exhausted relief.
Only 1 year to go before we do it all over again!