April is the cruelest month.
I have just finished doing my taxes. I have no idea why I waited so long. But, as far as I can tell, they are done.
I usually get really nervous around this time. I wonder if I did something wrong on my return. I am afraid to answer the door (thankfully, no one ever visits me) and answer the phone (thankfully no one calls me), thinking it could be some black-suit clad G-men coming to arrest me and put me to work in the Gulag. That may never happen, but it might as well. Our financial records are as organized as the North Dakota Film Society. If we were to be audited, we would have to flee to Egypt.
This year I am especially nervous. According to my good buddy TurboTax, we stand to get a substantial (for us) refund. This is not good. Something cannot be right. Our return was particularly complicated this year, as, between Jenni and myself, we received 7 different W-2s. Much of the money my wife earned she earned from the same company from two different states. This, additionally, is self-employment income. Our taxes could only be more complicated if we were Ken Lay and Martha Stewart (if Ken Lay were alive a married to Martha Stewart--I would be Martha).
Thusly, I am simultaneously ecstatic and eeire. I am watching as many prison films and listening to as much Johnny Cash as I can to prepare myself for my stay in a minimum security prison. I am also swallowing as many keys as I can (thank you, GOB Bluth). Please keep me in your prayers.
That is all.