About 24 years ago, I found the perfect solution to dealing with the IRS and tax filing. I married an accountant.
Having maybe met you (or not), I can say without hesitation that a charming, creative person like yourself would have no problem lassoing an unsuspecting bean counter. I can tell you from experience that accountants are pretty easy to care for. Just keep the checking account in the black, and never—I mean, never—lose a receipt.
If you’ve already made the mistake of marrying a doctor, auto mechanic, school teacher, or other non-accountant type, I truly feel for you. In the short period of my life when I was still single, but beyond the 1040-EZ years, the dawning of April was met with sweaty palms and severe brain cramp. I could usually be found under my desk, curled up in the fetal position and softly sobbing. While I was down there, I usually found a lost receipt or two.
Scouring the voluminous tax forms, books and websites for those elusive deductions is about as much fun as doing a barefoot Easter egg hunt in a field of glass shards.
Actually, it’s less fun, because there’s no candy involved.
My wife, the accountant, tells me that because I am self-employed, roughly 15 cents of every dollar I make goes to something called “Self Employment Tax.” This, I’m told, has something to do with Social Security, which I may not get anyway. My “effective tax rate” is (I think) 10 percent, and I pay another 3 percent to the state.
That all adds up to exactly, well, I had to ask my wife, and she put it in terms I could understand:
I basically work until about the middle of April before I make a dime. No matter how you look at it, that is just plain crazy… which is exactly what my in-laws called my wife when she married me.