I've been smiling throughout the day today as I remembered that it was April 15. John, who always referred to himself as the grasshopper and me as the ant, loved to procrastinate on his taxes (along with many other things). He prided himself on finishing them at 10:30 or so on the evening of the 15th. He would hop in the car and drive down to the main post office, next door to Union Station, and get in the line of cars whose drivers were handing their tax envelopes out the window to friendly postal workers standing in the street.
In those years, the D.C. television stations would always have cameras posted at the main station, and John would hope he could get on TV, then race home to see if he could see himself.
Me? I'd finish them on January 2 if I could, but since I can't, I procrastinate until the first of April. My accountant said I brought them in at just the right time—between the wave of very organized people and that of super-procrastinators.
I mailed the last return off yesterday. Whew! And the refunds I'm getting are greater than the underpayments I had to make good.
May all your returns yield refunds!
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