Getting it over with

In this world, nothing is certain but death and taxes.
--Benjamin Franklin

The Grim Reaper has to wait his turn, but today I paid my taxes.

Taxes aren't due until April 15, but I concluded, after some quick mental arithmetic, that this year, for a change, the IRS would owe me a tax refund. Nothing like the prospect of a little free money to focus my mind, blowing away my customary inclination to procrastinate. And so, I sat down last night at the dining room table -- tax forms, calculator, and pen at hand.

Alas, as the numbers were crunched, I soon discovered the extent of my illusions. Once again, I end up writing a check to the U. S. Treasury. But am I disheartened? Indeed not.

Among my many other peculiarities, I always get a kick out of filling out my annual tax forms. I actually look forward to it. I'd never pay someone like H&R Block to do it for me. It's a yearly report card, where I, rather than a teacher, write the report. A performance review without the annoying department manager. Even, perhaps, an examination of conscience -- what have I made of my life in the past year?

And when, as this year, the performance review isn't all that favorable, I at least have the consolation that I will pay less -- rather than receive less -- money. In today's economic climate, in fact, it's a privilege to owe any taxes at all. I recall how many people have been reduced to poverty, bankruptcy and foreclosure over the past year.

So I neatly fill out my forms, trying to present myself as a careful, trustworthy citizen, one who certainly doesn't deserve an audit. A guy worthy of Senate confirmation. I write my check, attach my W-2, make a copy for my records, and drop the envelope into the mailbox. All done for another year.

Let's hope that 2009 offers us all more income on which to pay taxes a year from now.