Taxing

Inspirational song: Taxman (The Beatles)

I spent a torturous hour watching a woman begin to sort out our taxes this afternoon. I have no tax preparation skills, and I must rely on the kindness of strangers for this activity. The man used to do it himself, and I would avoid him for the week or two it took him to sort them out. He was always a cranky beast, as he started at, "Oh, crap, we are going to owe thousands!", transitioned through, "Wait, no, we only owe a little," and, "We'll get a refund but it will be small," to ending up at, "Okay, I figured out out, and we'll get an okay refund." Every time. But in the last several years, since we became landlords of three properties, the level of complexity for our taxes has trebled. We started getting our taxes prepared around the same time we bought the first condo, and every year we overwhelmed the poor entry-level soul tasked with dealing with our Gordion knot tax situation. This year, finally, we went straight for the lady at the top who really knew her stuff, but even so, we were barely able to get our files arranged into the proper piles before our time was up. She's going to research some of the questions we have about the big-time losses we have with one condo uninhabitable, and thus unrentable, and the other barely chugging along at half-rented due to its "slum" level condition while we wait for the repairs. And it's going to take twice as long to sort out two years worth of returns, since we took deferments while the man was out of the country.

The worst part about the appointment today was that I couldn't focus on it to save my life. My surgery is coming up on Monday and I bounce between happy that it is coming so soon, terrified of how it will turn out (and feel), and feeling exhausted and ill and wondering how I am going to make it this long. Lately I have no energy, and all I want to do is sleep. I'm making myself stay awake through the days for the most part, but physical activity is severely limited. We parked across the street from the tax office today, and the walk through a parking lot and across to the correct building was the limit of my energy reserves. I am trying to think positively, that once the surgery is over, I will regain my vigor and enthusiasm for life. I refuse to believe anything else is possible.

I have breaking news this evening. The police called my daughter, and said that they found her vehicle. She had to drive across several communities to get to the right city, so we have very few details at this point. She is in motion as I write. We have no idea what condition the truck is in. It may be fine, it may be the merest shell of a vehicle. They might hand her a rear view mirror and a VIN plate. I will let you know tomorrow. Thank you to everyone who shared the message and got the word out to SoCal friends. I don't know how it was found yet, but I'm glad for her sake that it was.