In a way I envy my friend at work who says she always knows what her taxes are going to look like because nothing ever changes. My tax situation is so different year-to-year that I NEVER know what to expect at all. Owe or refund? And to what order of magnitude? $20, $200, or $2000? This makes preparing taxes a rather hopeful, exciting endeavor, but admittedly one that can end VERY badly.

When I was a teen (and when I was out of the country for three years in my early 20s), the responsibility of seeing that my taxes were paid fell to my dad. He dutifully filed them and billed me for what I owed (the government and him). It wasn’t until I was in college AND in the country during tax time that I finally started getting money back and eventually MAKING money on taxes. While at BYU I used their tax lab most of the time, a friend once. Seeing how much money I was getting on my return made me question what on earth my dad had been saying that had always left me owing. After age 25 (yes, still in college) the EIC boosted things to a whole new level. These experiences gave me confidence to try doing my own taxes on paper a couple years ago. After all, I was in GA—no BYU tax lab here. Well, like the years of dad-prepared taxes, again I came up owing…this time a lot. So, I waited until my next trip to Utah (you know, the week I traveled there to defend and revise my thesis, and get married, and do my taxes…) and used the tax lab again, who true to form got me a hefty return.

The last two years, I have been the primary tax preparer. I get them all worked up online while at work. I have plenty of time to try different things—even different tax preparation software. I ask B questions in the evening and search for information during the day. Then, once I’ve done everything, he looks them over on a Saturday, changes/adds whatever he wants, and files them.

This year, the first tax preparation software I used was telling me that we owed a lot. Really, a lot. I was not satisfied with this outcome, so I tried the other software. The best I could do with the new software was to “balance” the taxes [keep in mind we have three states to deal with]. This was quite a feat, considering what the first software had been telling me. How is it that I put the same information in and the softwares tell me vastly different things, both guaranteeing the lowest owed amount and biggest refund? Of course, breaking even was still not what I was hoping for, even though I know that no return means you didn’t give the government a free loan on your money, so theoretically it’s ideal. B spent ALL DAY Saturday going over the federal and trying to get the states sorted out (I had been too frustrated with my week of taxes to do more than the federal) and ended up getting us a nice return. Can you believe that?

The fact that he was able to get a substantial return SHOULD be because he’s so stinking honest, but we all know things don’t work like that. It is true, though, that B is the most honest person I know. That $1.67 interest from your savings account? It needs to be taxed. The odd job someone gave you $20 or $100 for? Mention each of those. I like to laugh at this and complain that it’s ridiculous, but that just sets off a long speech about integrity. What’s it worth? Is my integrity worth $1.67? $1000? Do I want to go to hell over an amount of money? Well, there really is no legitimate retort/rebuttal to these questions, for while I cannot definitively say how much my integrity really is worth or whether there is an amount of money for which I would want to go to hell, I am certain that none of the amounts of money we talk about are enough. So, I simply respond by trying to come up with as many things that we could try to pay taxes on as I can. There must be more things for which we can be taxed…

Classified

Could someone make the case for me in favor of going private on a blog? Why is this done? I understand that ANYONE can read my blog if it isn’t private. Of course, I’m one of those “anyones” and I am only somewhat ashamed of the amount of blog browsing I do on blogs belonging to complete strangers. But really, how much of a threat am I? Ok, so maybe for some, just the idea of ANY unknown reader having access to their blog is distasteful. But, all in all, the threat of people like me stumbling across my blog and reading it doesn’t bother me.

So, I guess there are a few other “anyone” types out there. They are the threat, right? But what, exactly IS the threat? Will they move from blog stalking to physical stalking—shadowing me as I run errands, watching me through windows, and copying my birthday wish list and children’s names? Certainly, there are those who would steal my SS# and bank accounts if I let them, but you will notice these numbers are conspicuously missing from my blog (and I suspect from the private blogs as well). So, why does everyone go private?

Basically, I’m wondering if I missed a report on some sort of new and growing trend [threat-trend] that has everyone scared, and the way to protect yourself and fight back is by going private. Did something awful happen? Was it in the news? I read both TIME and Newsweek every week, which, of course, means that I know exactly what is NOT going on. So, if you know what the threat is, please tell me so that I can evaluate it and decide whether I need to go private. So far, I’m comfortable but open to privatization should anything make me sufficiently uncomfortable.

It’s funny, because I consider myself a very private person. I only want people to know what I tell them, and I carefully consider what information I want to go public (this blog is fully-approved, by the way—no secrets here). Don’t even get me started on what an irritable hostess I am for house guests—even under the best conditions. Mi casa is no tu casa. But mi blog is tu blog. For now.

Just listen to me.

This all started a long time ago…
My gas mileage used to be inconsequential. By that I mean, I don’t know what it was. It didn’t stand out as being totally AMAZING or very, very poor. My gas gage has been broken since I’ve had the car, so I have to fill up when the gas light comes on (or soon thereafter). In order to have one additional aid, I also reset the mileage counter each time I fill up. I don’t work out the miles per gallon, but I figure that the light WITH the mileage counter is nearly fail proof. And it is. I’ve only run out of gas twice. That’s average, right?
Well, it’s been really bugging me for a year now that my gas mileage has been falling akin to the stock market. True, I don’t know what it ever was to begin with, but I can remember it being well into the 200s before the light would come on. Then I was sad when it was in the 220s, then 180s, then …eventually… 140s. This caused me no small amount of concern. I would dread seeing the gas light—REALLY dread it—“just a FEW more miles…don’t come on yet…” I drove in a state of fear even greater than the state of fear that I normally always drive in. So, a couple months ago, the dealership was called and they asked me to drive three-tanks-worth of gas from the same station on my normal route, recording the miles/gallon.
…

This all started a long time ago…
About a million months ago, I noticed that my tires looked low. I mentioned it to B and he gave me a very “my dad” type response, “Your tires look fine.” Sure. He knows more about tires. Whatever. But the tires still looked low to me. It was bugging me as the months went by. I’d mention it monthly, “Honey, the tires look really low to me.” Always the answer, “They are not low; they look just fine.” I couldn’t understand it. I even SHOWED him the tires. “Look at THAT one!” How could he not see it?
Finally, after MONTHS of this, as we parked his car next to mine one day and the weather was nice and we were not in a hurry to get somewhere, he decided to prove to me that I was crazy. So, he got out his tire-pressure-checker-device, intent on making this a learning experience. “I’ll check the first one, and then you can check the rest.” First, he showed me that my tires are 44lb. tires. Then he used the device: 22lb. Ha HAH! He was so shocked he quickly checked the next one, forgetting about how he was going to make me do it. This next tire was so low, we don’t even have a reading for it. The pressure thing didn’t even pop out, which means it was 10lb or fewer. Now I was excited! The next tire was the one that looked the worst (and that, when I showed it to him thinking he would not be able to deny how low it was, he could not see anything wrong with it). But B was done checking. “Well, they’re all going to be low. I’ll pump them up tomorrow.”
And he did. B normally gets up when I leave for work, but on this day he got up 15 minutes early, put on his jacket (it was POURING RAIN) outside, and headed out to my car with his bike pump (the tall, stand-up kind you use your arms for). When I got out there he was soaked and working hard. I sat in the car for a few minutes (the rain, you know) until finally he stopped so I could get to work (the final tire was mostly pumped up). He said it was a great start to his workout. His arms and chest were burning and he was worn out.

So for months we had both fretted and despaired over the tanking gas mileage, but also for months I, alone, had fretted and despaired over the ever-more-flattening tires—the very CAUSE of our mileage problems. Think of all the wasted gas. Think of all the wasted fretting! The car is currently getting GREAT mileage (I guess). Comparatively the mileage is great; certainly it’s good enough to be inconsequential. And, a lesson has been learned. I finally got B to see that not only do tires have a HUGE impact on gas mileage (bigger than he thought they would), but I should be listened to when I think there’s a problem. It will save us money and save him 15 minutes in bed on a rainy morning.