Tax season is upon us [at least those of us in the U.S.] and after a near-debacle last year due largely to my infinite capacity for procrastination, this weekend seemed an appropriate opportunity to do the deed. ‘Specially with the brilliant irony of it being an all-fools weekend, as it were. And it made my better half happy, which is important, particularly given my recent forays into kitchen counter real-estate [coffee roasting equipment, a semi-commercial espresso machine and its many accessories, etc.]
For my U.S. compatriots, little is needed to describe the lunacy that is our tax system. For the rest of you, imagine, if you will, interminable paperwork with incomprehensible instructions, made in my case orders of magnitude more complex by multiple incomes from multiple employers in multiple states and multiple cities, each with its own taxing authorities, its own forms, and a copy of nearly every form to go to nearly every taxing authority to confirm that you’ve paid your fair share [and then some] to somebody if not to them.
Even with the aid of some very smart software [hats off to Intuit for TurboTax] it seems there are always a few key form fields that require significantly more explanation than what’s provided by any set of instructions, either bits or bits of ink on paper. Then again, maybe I’m just dense.
In any case, job done and paperwork filed, I rewarded myself with some quality time with Miss Silvia [that would be the espresso machine.] While I’d already had the opportunity to pull a small number of rather good espressi [and a somewhat larger number of less-than-admirable attempts] since taking delivery last week, I’d had little success with steaming. This evening, though, I managed both an amazing lil’ double ristretto and my first pitcher of pourable microfroth, and soon the two together were a happy cappa.
There are certainties in this life beyond death and taxes. There’s the assurance that, if it’s raining, the dog needs to pee… and the restorative power of a good cup of coffee.