Panic?
PFF! says the demon
It’s always something. Now it’s taxes. Shouldn’t it have been taxes back in April? It was! But then I got an extension. Kent had an accountant. I inherited the accountant. A nice guy. When I told Anthony last year that Kent had died, Anthony said, “But I just talked to him!”
I am digging through papers to find all the tax documents. Some I have found. What haven’t I found? I don’t know! Some I think are in my email or downloads folder. I’m afraid to look. Do I think they’re going to bite me? Yes. I totally expect fangs. With venom.
My talk therapist recently asked me, “Have you had any panic attacks?” Panic, yes. Attacks? I don’t think so. Aren’t those bad?
Last Sunday I attended the Petaluma Poetry Walk, an all-day marathon of poetry readings. The venues are a bookstore, a bar, a hotel meeting room, a fancy tchotchkes shop, a theater, and so on. Petaluma is a 45-minute drive from Berkeley. It was a lovely day.
I wasn’t even worn out as twilight’s last glimmer accompanied me on my return journey. Nosing the Mini Cooper up Hwy 101 toward San Rafael I heard a heard sound like PFAFF! I turned off the car stereo. The car’s handling didn’t seem to change. I kept the music off just in case.
In August I took the car to the shop. The car hadn’t been giving me any trouble. I was just obeying the dashboard’s service light. When I collected the car the mechanic said the front tires needed to be replaced. He even pointed out a crack in a sidewall. I assured the attentive mechanic that I would make an appointment to bring the car back in the next week. Things came up. The Celebration of Life for Kent, my sister visiting from Seattle, errands. It’s not like the tires were an emergency.
So, yeah, that PFAFF was the driver’s side front tire failing. I was driving 70mph, surrounded by people going faster. Should I have pulled off in San Rafael and called a tow? I powered on for another 20 minutes or so, the last three or four miles to the Berkeley exit hearing a helicopter-like thump-it-uh-thump-it-uh.
As the mechanic laconically commented when the tow truck dropped the car and me off the next morning, “It’s amazing how far you can drive on these run-flat tires.”
I didn’t panic. I had a bigger meltdown over cleaning the flat screen TV that was going to be transported from home to the Live Oak Park Community Center. The TV was to display the slide show of Kent pictures, and I panicked when the cleaning fluid left big smears. In truth, I don’t think anybody saw them. The TV back in its usual place, glowing with the usual shows, I can’t see a single smear now. Maybe if I looked at it from a particular angle with a certain slant of light.
Standing beside the car parked safely on Buchanan Street waiting for AAA last Sunday night I felt okay. It was just something. Something that came up. Something that I was equipped to handle. I had roadside service. Kent set that up. Still taking care of me.
Taxes? I’ll find everything. And if I don’t? There will be a way to get a duplicate of whatever’s missing. There will be somebody who knows how to get that. Panic won’t conjure it. Panic won’t make anything easier. Besides, it’s not like getting my taxes done is everything. There will be a next thing to panic about. And a next. I know you know. It’s always something.
And, obviously I should never be allowed to post anything without an editor. Always has been the case. Fluke of mild, uncorrectable learning disability. How come, as smart as AI, and Grammary are supposed to be, not only are they useless for the disabled, but when they do try to help they are wrong, stupid, and worse writers even than I am. It's not like I could train one for my needs, especially as my fingers keep hitting the wrong keys. Anyone got a really smart parrot who can type that needs a home? (Oh, and diapers. Got a wear diapers. I mean, there's a reason birds prefer to live outside. And even if a cat could be trained to type, they would only be interested when you are trying to do something else...) ;)
If is always something. Glad you are able to chill, if eventually. We have actually had very good luck with the IRS, especially considering the unexpected twists and turns in our professional lives. The only time we were ever audited by the IRS was the first time we had hired an accountant. She had made a significant mistake - claiming our basement, where we had an office where at least 6 people worked every day, most for money, some as volunteers. Apparently, however there is a sq foot limit to home based business space, the equivalent of one room, unless you have a separate building on your property.
No problem, we get called in by a small, but professionally polite accountant who reviewed and logged every disorganized receipt in the box, without complaint, even though he had to hold each receipt up to his very thick glasses - clearly quite the chore for the man. But he was kind, and patient, and when he was done he told us nothing - other than the accountant's mistake and our ignorance of tax law. He wrote down the difference between what we paid and what we owed, directing us to a window where we could write a check or set up a payment plan. And, back in the way back machine, their was a consumer support number - AT THE IRS - where their whole job was to help tax payers. They could answer questions, look up your case file, set up payment plans, and - when hardship could be proven - forgive back taxes, for little guys - when necessary. I know because when I was younger and a freelancer not understanding what to do, they were most helpful with advice, and I'm did help people I knew get out from under when they were, for example, in danger of going under. This doesn't apply to property taxes or mortgage concerns - different businesses and enforcement agencies. But, initially, not unlike the Social Security department, the IRS was set up to assist citizens...
Ah well. After that we filled all our own taxes until just last year, when Jeremy Sharp helped us (can't recommend him highly enough - reach out for contact email if you wish to support a good hearted, highly capable professional) as we have just started to dip our toes back into the water of being working creators again.
It's getting pretty hairy out there in the bad old USA, but if we take care of each other, we will get through it together.