I've just finished my tax reckoning for 2015, that is, I’ve done my part, sorting and organizing the papers; I leave the rest to my accountant. When I say “my” I don’t mean he’s mine. You know what I mean. I wish he were - - no I don’t. If I had an on-site expert I’d prefer a doctor. That reminds me of a famous line by Tallulah Bankhead (look her up, darling), When she was asked whom she would like to stranded with on a desert island, she replied, “a first-class obstetrician.”.
Income tax time is retrospective time, as opposed to introspective. Introspection, self-analysis, navel-gazing, whatever you want to call it, is best done at the New Year. (That was then, this is now, where am I going now?) It’s very personal and very forgiving. Income tax retrospection is not. Not only that, it’s when all your dirty little secrets come out in the open – open to your accountant, if you don’t do the tally yourself. Your secret indulgences are exposed, there to see in black and white, or rather in red, because that’s what put you in arrears.
One does tend to re-live the year that was, not minute-by-minute or week-by-week but expense- by-expense. I do hope for your sake that you logged some good memories.
Name one. Enjoy.