come on, like me god damn it
Generally I don’t mind filing out tax forms. Actually, I find it kind of satisfying in the end. I like accuracy and definitive answers and filling in little boxes. When I was about 9 I wrote a book (for school) of poems that included one titled “I love tests.” I really was that big of a nerd.
In any case, I am filing out an IRS form that proves we should still be considered a nonprofit after our initial four years of operation. (oh my god I have been wasting my life at this for 4 years!?) Pretty straight forward but we have a weird set of income sources that don’t exactly correspond to the IRS categories. Most of this is taken care of by our accountant but since 2005 taxes haven’t been done yet and this form is due, I find myself trying to figure this shit out on my own. So I end up calling our accountant to help me sort it out. I seriously can’t think of anyone else that makes me feel like such a moron. She is so serious and short (verbally that is, but also happens to be quite a small person) and clearly didn’t want to deal with me. She wasn’t mean or unprofessional or anything specifically bad. And I think she’s really a very good accountant and I sort of like her just fine but I feel like I am about to cry. Maybe it’s me not her. Maybe it’s both of us or that when I talk to her I feel like I should really know more than I do and I’m pretending and she knows what a big idiot I am. I feel like I should have all the answers but how in the hell could I? Sometimes I don’t feel like I even know the right words to ask the right questions.
Clearly this is going nowhere fast in terms of my enlightenment about my current questionable state of mind. I think I’ll blame the IRS and perhaps hormones and chocolate deprivation and leave it at that…wait, scratch that, I think I want this woman to like me and she is so damn professional she can’t spare any niceties and I figure if she thinks I am really smart and on top of it she will like me and be nice to me. In reality thought I don’t suspect she is actually “nice” to anyone. If I didn’t have a reason to write this/place to put it, I would have just sat around freaking out and eating chocolate chips. Blog therapy. How about that?
In any case, I am filing out an IRS form that proves we should still be considered a nonprofit after our initial four years of operation. (oh my god I have been wasting my life at this for 4 years!?) Pretty straight forward but we have a weird set of income sources that don’t exactly correspond to the IRS categories. Most of this is taken care of by our accountant but since 2005 taxes haven’t been done yet and this form is due, I find myself trying to figure this shit out on my own. So I end up calling our accountant to help me sort it out. I seriously can’t think of anyone else that makes me feel like such a moron. She is so serious and short (verbally that is, but also happens to be quite a small person) and clearly didn’t want to deal with me. She wasn’t mean or unprofessional or anything specifically bad. And I think she’s really a very good accountant and I sort of like her just fine but I feel like I am about to cry. Maybe it’s me not her. Maybe it’s both of us or that when I talk to her I feel like I should really know more than I do and I’m pretending and she knows what a big idiot I am. I feel like I should have all the answers but how in the hell could I? Sometimes I don’t feel like I even know the right words to ask the right questions.
Clearly this is going nowhere fast in terms of my enlightenment about my current questionable state of mind. I think I’ll blame the IRS and perhaps hormones and chocolate deprivation and leave it at that…wait, scratch that, I think I want this woman to like me and she is so damn professional she can’t spare any niceties and I figure if she thinks I am really smart and on top of it she will like me and be nice to me. In reality thought I don’t suspect she is actually “nice” to anyone. If I didn’t have a reason to write this/place to put it, I would have just sat around freaking out and eating chocolate chips. Blog therapy. How about that?
posted by mama without instructions at 4:09 PM
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