These are our taxes. Do you like the return address?
I filled nine (NINE!) envelopes today, seven (SEVEN!) of them with payments enclosed. And we still owe. Our accountant claims that he has never seen anyone nailed harder than us, and he is not a young man. We are destined to be the sad over-told story at all of his future dinner parties.
If there is a tax out there, we pay it.
Tax on breathing air? Check.
Tax on using toilet paper? Check.
Tax on wondering when Project Runway will return? Check.
Tax on reading magazines from back-to-front instead of front-to-back? Check.
Tax on sleeping on your side? Check.
Tax on looking out the window? Check.
Tax on toenail fungus? Check.
Tax on yelling at your kids to flush? Check.
What do we do for a hobby? We pay taxes.
