Friday, April 16, 2010

In Love Again

I always fall in love around tax time. My husband’s birthday happens to be the day before the tax deadline, but he understands that he can’t really compete with my accountant this time of year. It’s a significant relationship and I won’t give it up.

I became the tax person in my family after one confusing tax year early in our marriage. I had always done my own taxes but it was the year we bought our house with LOTS of help from my in-laws. The transfer of stocks involved with that help put us in the category of needing a professional. My father-in-law sat down with my husband to do our taxes using Turbo Tax. My husband came back from my in-laws' sweating and cussing over a tax bill of over $20,000. I insisted we at least take our taxes to H&R Block. My husband’s father insisted that we would be wasting our money on a professional and strongly advised us not to go, contacting my husband repeatedly. I told my husband to hand over the paperwork and I would take care of the rest.

That was the year I fell in love with Maria. She sat with me for more than two hours. Our situation was very confusing, plus President Bush had changed some rules at the last minute, which didn’t make it into that year's Turbo Tax. At the end of my meeting with Maria, she and I shouted and hugged in celebration, even though there was plenty of sweating and cussing during the meeting. . . my husband had called in the middle of it to tell me he had lost our dog and I was in the nauseating first trimester with Daisy. But the outcome was a $4000 tax bill, at a savings of over $16,000. Let’s see . . . do you think Maria’s $300 bill was worth it? I was struck by the sheer joy on my husband’s face when I returned from that appointment. And it was all because of Maria.

But after a few years, we found that we had outgrown Maria. She bungled something on more than one occasion. We avoided her when we ran into her at her non-tax season job, selling appliances at Home Depot. I never looked at her the same way after seeing her standing in the refrigerator aisle. I thought she was better than that.

Then we found Parviz through a friend. I actually haven't met him in person. Our relationship occurs only through emails, phone calls and texts . . . but that doesn’t stop me from showering him with messages of love and admiration. That’s why we love you . . . because you rock, you lovely hunk of accountant man meat. I’m not positive – Parviz has a thick Iranian accent that interferes with my comprehension at times – but I think he might have intentionally messed with me this year in revenge for my lagging on getting paperwork to him. A couple days ago, I got a voice mail that I had to listen to about ten times before I put together that we owed taxes and he was trying to get the pay-to amount down.

That’s all I heard from him and it was 7 p.m. on the deadline last night, and I still didn’t know more. I was pacing nervously and sent a quick text . . . so? When he called, he told me I was killing him. I asked him how much we owed. He asked me to guess how much we owed. I refused to play that game. I guess we owe nothing! What is it? I know we’re going to owe something because I got your voice mail . . . Parviz got a funny sound in his voice and claimed that he must have been talking about some other clients on my voice mail.

We’re getting a faaaaatttt refund, at least by my standards. While my husband ran down to Kinko’s to fax off our signatures last night, I sent Parviz hearts and smiley faces. I love you, you incredibly smart, number-crunching madman.

Oh and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my husband!


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