.. the Hell that is doing a tax return.
Every year I intend on doing it in a timely fashion. Maybe even over the Summer. Every year I leave it ’til the last possible second – much like I used to do with my maths homework, or those essays for R.E.
I don’t actually mind the filling-in of the return. I like maths, and I think it’s interesting (if not sometimes depressing) to find out how successful (in financial terms) the previous year has been.
It’s the other stuff that I hate. Going through receipts and making a note of which gigs I did where: Not only is it tedious, but it reminds me too much of things I’d maybe rather not be reminded of, particularly in the vulnerable receipt-surrounded state in which I sit.
Like how ‘after I got back from that gig, I went to that bar and saw that guy and did that. That was a good night.’ When ‘that guy’ is no longer in my life.
Or how ‘that was that gig that nearly got cancelled because that awful guy tried to nick it from me and take my payment (along with the others).’ But at least, thank goodness, that guy is no longer in my life!
And many other countless remembrances, triggered by a tiny note in my diary (eg. ‘Chutney and Gin Day’) or a crumpled receipt from 12 months ago..
I’m nostalgic at the best of times, and if you know me well, you know that I’m a master of procrastination. These things don’t bode well for me when I have to examine every week of a previous 52.
And so, I’m here writing a blog on it just to give myself a rest before rediscovering more memories I thought I’d buried.. (and procrastinating, as I’ve lost a payment from last January and gotten very confused!)
I hate this time of the year – ‘the accounting week.’ Whether it was the Summer or 2 days before the deadline, I’d hate it. And what’s worse is knowing that in 12 months I’ll be doing it again with a whole new, fresh set of memories to set me off wondering if I could have done things differently.