Taxes: If They Don't Bleed You Dry, They May Kill You

 Gratitudes:

1. Warm, fuzzy robes that I can snuggle in when I'm not feeling my best. 
2. Instacart. Because sometimes getting groceries myself is too much to handle. 
3. Professionals who take care of figuring out my taxes.

It's tax season. Every year I proclaim that I will have my shit together by the beginning of February and every year we end up waiting until the end of February to get our information to our accountant because we end up waiting on documentation from third parties. Every. Year. 

This year is no different. Added to my normal tax time anxiety is the fact that last year we cashed in some investments. It was always the plan to cash these in. And it was understood that we may owe taxes due to the cashing in of these investments. That's fine, we have money set aside for just such a situation. 

What is amping up my anxiety is the fact that one one of the 1099s we have from mutual funds we have owned since 2005 is missing vital information. Such as purchase dates and purchase costs. Uh......didn't the brokerage house retain this information? Apparently not. We no longer use this brokerage house, but I have been in regular contact with our previous agent regarding this and some other inconsistencies. I'm not happy. I'm almost sick to my stomach.

So I have to dig through all the year end statements for these investments and attempt to match up the information found there to the information on the 1099. I will be sending ALL this information to our accountant along with my findings. I will also be biting my nails and worrying until she has prepared our information and we submit it to the government. 

I hate taxes. I don't begrudge the government it's fair share of our income. We live here. We enjoy benefits the government pays for or maintains. That comes out of tax money. What I hate are the mysterious tax codes and the changes that occur every year. I hate that if one mistake is made, one honest mistake, our financial history may be called under scrutiny. I have nothing to hide. I just don't like the idea of someone taking that deep a look into my life. 

Taxes. Ugh! 

It's alright, mom. Come snuggle, you'll feel better. 

Velcro Dog is telling me to stop worrying and give him a bone. All we need is food, shelter, and companionship, right? I hate to break his bubble and let him know that part of the reason he has all these things is the same reason we need to prepare and pay taxes; because we make money. A dog needs to retain some of his fantasies after all.