Yesterday was March 21. That means that in less than 30 days my tax returns need to be stamped and in the mail before the post office closes that night.
How close am I to accomplishing this annual drain on my existence?
Not close at all. In fact, I think I have been avoiding it all together. You see, this has been Hubby’s department for the past 2.5 years. Bills, bill-paying, filing, they all fall under his assigned responsibilities. He asked for it. He chose it. He wanted it.
Last week Hubby gives me an
Hubby: “Since you are going to be working (it looks like) one less day a week, how would you like to take over the task of bill-paying?”
Me: (thinking to myself that I would rather be shot and left for dead somewhere on the side of the road) “OK, sure, if it would make it easier for you.”
He is after all working a lot and I could do it.
Backstory: I am a very responsible/organized bill-payer. Before I met Hubby I balanced everything myself, paid all bills on time and in full, as well as paid them the day that they arrived. I had an impeccable system of putting whole checks into saving and living off of one week’s pay a month. Think Monica on Friends.
Oh how the times have changed.
When Hubby came home from his deployment he decided it was time for him to “be the man” and “take charge” of the finances. He is such a patriarch.
Last weekend, my eyes were opened to the deep dark world that ensues when Hubby says, “it is all under control.”
In preparation of jumping right in and taking over with the bill paying responsibility, I open our little storage compartments in our bonus room. I am greeted by something that resembles this:
There were piles and piles of unorganized papers, stubs, bills, recepits, and on and on and on. It was like the Dunder Mifflin paper warehouse had exploded in my storage space. Stacked neatly, but tons of papers. Everywhere.
It probably was the closest I have come to having an anxiety attack since I got on an airplane for the first time as an adult.
Not a pretty sight!
It took all of the self-control within me not to yell expletives at the top of my lungs.
This has taught me a few things about Hubby and myself:
- I am becoming more and more of a Type A, over-organized, everything must be in its place, on a daily basis or I will freak out,
- I need to communicate better with Hubby that his lack of being as much of a Type A as I am is pissing me the heck off.
- I must inform Hubby that stating “I’ll take care of it” or “it is done” is going to be greatly doubted in my mind for a few months to come until this little fiasco has been put to rest.
So, last weekend, I spent MANY hours on the floor of our office trying to sort, stack, organize, and file 2.5 years worth of bills, papers, and receipts. Can you even begin to fathom the amount of paperwork that was?
Unfortunately, I can. And. I. Was. Not. Happy.
My hours long organizing frenzy resulted in one huge garbage bag full of shredded papers, 15 more file folders, a new system of bill paying, and three new spreadsheets.
And that makes me
Now, my next task is on to completing the taxes for the year. I would like to think I could attempt this myself, being the cheap-skate and broke tax payer that I am, but I am nervous about things like audits, lines running together, not reporting properly, etc. etc. etc. But, I hate to give up a substantial portion of my income to an accountant who makes more than me and quite frankly has no right to my money.
I wonder if I could do it myself? The clock is ticking. I need to decide!