The irony, however, is that much as I dread the drudgery of it all each March/April, and every year I make heartfelt and ancient oaths that next year I will take it to a CPA goshdarnit, I come back the next year for more torture. Why? Because I am a control freak and a sick, sick person. What's the point of paying someone several hundred dollars just to file the thing when I'll still insist on sorting and labeling a year's worth of receipts, instead of dumping my shoebox of financial papers off like any normal person. Having someone else do my taxes probably won't save me any time or heartache in the end, and if I did miraculously decide to let go my iron grip and not examine how they got every decimal point, I'd either scrutinize the whole thing at length afterward, or I'd be kept up at night for months wondering how on earth they calculated my home office deduction at $781.33. Shouldn't it be 779.31? Will I get audited for their ridiculous oversight? Can it jeopardize my future plans of retiring in ridiculous wealth to a shabby Venetian mansion?
It's a darn good thing I like sci-fi, computers, and video games. If I wasn't so quirkily geeky, I'd be in imminent danger of just being annoyingly, boringly nerdy. Good thing I'm not going into a profession traditionally perceived as nerdy.
Darn it.
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