lifewithoutcash

Well, since I finally sat down with the disastrous mess of random bits of paper that I enjoy pretending are my ‘files’ and discovered there was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to be able to do my own taxes… I ended up getting a professional to do them. There are a couple of places that will do them for free, but the lines were so long that I actually PAID to have them done. (I don’t know if this is true everywhere, but here in NOLA, you can actually deduct this expense from your next year’s return.) So now, I have even more bits and pieces of crap to put in my ‘files’! Yes. I’m very excited about that. I’m jumping up and down as I type this.

I’m not going to use the name of the actual tax prep people, since they were really pretty nice– and they should be, considering what they charge– but the place itself was weird. It looked, a lot like I do, as though it had seen better days: coffeemaker with no coffee, duct tape holding the carpet together, and barely enough light to see the computer. They did have a large dispenser of hand sanitizer, which is something you see a lot of here. I mean like, everywhere. You walk into the convenience store and there it is, free to use: Katrina has made all of us germaphobic. (I’m not sure that’s a real word, but it’ll have to do for now.) New Orleans, where Purell reigns supreme.

The weirdest part was that it was in a fairly sketchy area… and there was only one person working there. Since she was just finishing up with another poor bastard, (and I say this because I clearly overheard her tell him he owes the Feds something like $2000.00, which I am NOT proud to admit made me feel instantly better) I decided it was a good time to go outside and smoke. I spent about two minutes out on the street before scurrying back inside, since a rather large, menacing fellow was walking his two pit bulls and talking to himself. Yes, I checked. He was not using a headset and clearly was not on the phone, unless he had a direct line to Satan. I won’t repeat the snippet of conversation that I overheard, but… yeah. It had to be Satan, or one of his minions. Eeek.

So, I went back inside the sad little storefront- and although I did have to pay for the service, at least I got it done with a minimum of angst. Plus, I got a free tee shirt that I plan on using to sleep in, since I refuse to wear anybody’s logos on my clothing. In conclusion, I think there’s a lesson to be learned from my experience: don’t put off doing your taxes, keep all your receipts in order… and just say NO to Post-Its. It’s come to my attention that I have a Post-It addiction that needs to be addressed, STAT.

And most importantly: if you are planning on smoking and see that scary dude coming, put out the cigarette. No lack of nicotine is worth dealing with bona fide crazies.

It’s also clear to me that if I quit entirely… I’ll have more cash.

Check my next post for OH MY GOD I QUIT AND NOW I WANT TO KILL SOMEONE.