Turns out, there IS a "Scotty" when you need one. By day, he's an accountant named Jeff, and I think I love him. He took one look at the bale of paper I brought him and filed an extension for me. I had to pacify the IRS with a big bundle of protection money, which I may or may not owe them, but it was worth it. Now I get to let Jeff fuss and worry over the whole mess until August.
It used to be so simple: "Here's my W-2. Please don't hurt me." Now there are three family members with lots of jobs between us, one of which (thanks to corporate layoffs) now involves self-employment taxes. There are investments; college loans; stuff that depreciates... it isn't pretty. Next year will be even worse, with a partnership thrown in. Between the IRS horror stories and my own cynical bent, I live in perpetual fear of the simple, innocent error that wipes out a lifetime of hard work and saving. I think that's why I put it off every year.
I ask you. Is this any way to fund a country?
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