As many of you are well-aware, we’re smack-dab in the middle of tax season.
I’m sure many of my on-the-ball Faithful Readers have long since received, cashed and spent their refunds. Your fourth favorite blogger and mine—that’s me—has yet to receive anything with any sort of monetary value, but I did learn earlier this week that I am, in fact, getting a refund.
The really sad part is that I am SUPER stoked about this refund because it will only mark the second-time in my entire tax-paying life that I’ve not had to pay-in to the government. That’s right ladies and gents, yours truly has been getting taken to the proverbial cleaners by Uncle Sam and his cronies in the IRS for years!!
I don’t think this is entirely my fault, however, because my “accountant” for all but the last three years was my aunt Linda. My aunt Linda may or may not stumble across this blog on her own someday and/or she may or may not hear about it from some member of the family who is secretly reading my works in the hopes that their name will pop up in a positive manner, either way I’m not overly concerned…because aunt Linda is the single-worst accountant of all-time and I don’t care who knows it.
When I was in college and she was doing my taxes, I paid-in to both state and federal every year. What’s that you ask, Faithful Reader? You want to know how in the blue hell a college kid whose lone source of income is a government-funded work-study program can be forced to pay-in?! Well by golly…I’d love to know too.
When I moved to Boston, I got a new accountant. Which is good, because had my aunt Linda been forced to handle forms from Iowa, Minnesota and Massachusetts all in the same year, I can only assume that instead of paying-in to the government; I’d have ended up a detainee in Guantánamo Bay for conspiracy to aid some sort of Brazilian tax extortion syndicate.
It wasn’t even by choice that we got a new accountant really, it happened by aunt Linda’s own incompetence. We got her our entire family’s tax info by early February and assumed all was going to be hunky-dory (or as hunky-dory as it can get when you pay-in every year). Then the first part of April rolled around and despite numerous attempts to contact her, we’d heard no replies of any kind.
It was about this time that Pappy finally decided to fire his sister as both the family accountant and the accountant for his construction company and go with someone a little more reliable and a little less sucky at their job.
So amidst some random scrambling to get duplicate tax forms from all of my employers from the previous year and ranting and raving to the high heavens about how much this sucked and dealing with an odd, made-for-TV family rift once my aunt Linda finally re-emerged via cryptic text messages to my father in the waning hours before the tax deadline….somewhere amidst all of that hullabaloo, I got a freakin’ refund!!
That’s right, my first refund ever and it was a nice one! Instead of paying-in I received nearly $1,500 combined from federal and all three states. Apparently when you graduate college, that same year you earn some sort of “education credits,” which apparently boosted me up into the world of refunds.
Last year, however, I found out I’d checked some wrong boxes and I’d not only been claiming one or two, but rather…four.
Yeah, that’s right…four.
Somehow, I’d been claiming four exemptions the entire time I worked out here. Think how much bigger my refund could have been the year before?!?!?! Well, with my claiming mishap, I ended up paying-in…again. The damage was $600, thus canceling out my stimulus check.
This year the dude in Iowa who did my taxes—I sent them home again because my Pappy offered to pay to get ‘em done and who would pass that up—told my Pappy that I’m getting a refund and he relayed the message to me earlier this week, which resulted in my skipping up and down and clapping like some sort of Miley Cyrus groupie at a Hannah Montana TV taping.
So now I sit back and wait as the money should be deposited into my account some time in the next couple of days.
I am SUPER stoked. I have no idea how much it is, because when I called the peeps in Iowa to give them my bank info, the dude was out and the secretary didn’t want to dig through anyone’s paperwork. As such, I’ve got a surprise deposit coming in the next few days. Here’s to hoping they realized how royally I’ve been screwed in the past and it’s a pleasant little deposit of $45,000 to cover emotional damages.
But hey, let’s be honest here, even if it’s a couple of bucks, I’m pretty freakin’ pumped…