No Do Day

I kind of fell into today. I've been working like the hammers of hell (tax deadline for self-employed persons in Canada is June 15th each year) and sorting out some unexpected tax tangles of friends of friends along with undoing the near tragedies of 'false filings' which happens a lot to people. They think tax returns are: like, man it's so easy, technology just completes your return. AUTOMATICALLY.

I hate puncturing that balloon for them when they come to me, proudly, telling me they don't need no accountant for they have their own computer like, which does it all for them.

*Did you claim that new truck?
Well duh!
*Did you claim just the capital cost allowance on it or the full value?
Wha'?
*How did you calculate your home office space?
Wha'?

You get the picture. It costs far more for them to get me to recalculate and file adjusted tax returns than it would have to get me to do it all from the get go. I should add: I don't mind. More money for my trip to Chile.

I was at cards last night when I had this thought seep into my head:
"Have a No Do Day tomorrow."
It sounded like anarchy to me. No Do? Moi?
Well here I am. No Doing.
Stan at Sentence First would have a ball with that word.
I got up late. I cooked home-made home fries with eggs and home-made bread toast. I had 3 cups of dark Italian roast. And savoured the newspaper all the way down to the Jumble.
I played Lexulous with four dear Lexy-buddies, two of whom are beating me.
I drifted onto FaceBook.
It is now 1.30pm and the whole FREE day yawns ahead of me. A friend dropped off 5 movies. I have knitting. I have a pile of luscious unread books. I have a fire going. What can I say? Summer in Newfoundland this year.
And absolutely no one is making demands on my time.
How perfect is this life?
Well, if it were any better there would be two of me to handle it (my beloved Granny would say that!).
No Do. Try it.

Tales from the Tax Trenches Part Three

She's whispering so low I can barely hear her.

"Sheila," I say firmly,"You'll have to speak up."

"Oh God," she says,"The students outside my door will hear me!"

"What's going on?" I ask her, puzzled, I haven't heard from her in nearly five years and I don't chase my clients, too much energy wasted.

"Four years!" she's nearly crying now, "Four years I haven't filed!".

"Do you want to meet with me?" I offer politely,"I'll be in your neighbourhood tomorrow."

"Oh no, not here," she says, an edge of desperation in her voice, "But there's a coffee shop around the corner from the school, can we meet there?"

And we do. She keeps hiding her face from the many students that are coming and going with coffees and teas. Discreetly, she passes her files to me under the table and I slide them surreptitiously into a big black bag I carry for such a purpose.

Sheila is a responsible, caring, middle-aged high school principal.

With four years of unfiled taxes.

For other such tales see:

Tales from the Tax Trenches Part One
Tales from the Tax Trenches Part Two