Uncle Sam, the Pimp

I had my final meeting with my accountant to discuss how he prepared my taxes and whether they looked payable. I forked over $175 for his time and effort, and I owe about $4,000 between my federal and state taxes. It’s a less scary number than the infinite, unknown, unpredictable numbers I was imagining before I had a concrete figure. I can handle this.

Sort of.

Whatever I don’t blow from savings just to keep afloat while my toe is broken, will be going to taxes this year. I can handle that, but I’ll still owe a few thousand more, and be left with no safety net in the bank in case of injury/illness/a shitty month at the club/catastrophe.

One step forward, three steps back. One step forward, three steps back. One step forward…

My car is still moving along fine with the odometer at 160,000 miles, but because machines are rather predictable, I know I’ll need another by next winter or spring. I’d been saving my ones from my stage sets every night I worked to buy a car outright, but instead, I’ll have to do what everyone else does: cross my fingers my credit is good enough to be perpetually in debt by the time next spring rolls around, and hope my car lasts that long.

Now, if this broken toe would just heal, I could get back to work and shake my ass for Uncle Sam. He’s yelling very loudly about that impending due date for a suitcase full of cash.


~ by The Stiletto-Shod One on February 13, 2013.

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