Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

On time!

For a change.

It’s April 15th, the Ides of April, that infamous day when our taxes are due.

Year after year, my accountants have applied for an extension—partly due to their own hectic schedules during this period and partly due to my not always getting the information to them quickly enough.

But this year, I was organized.  I was prompt.  I busily worked on keeping all those little receipts properly stored and labeled throughout the year so that the usual last minute scramble was neither last minute nor a scramble.

I am helped, of course, by the fact that I am semi-retired so that my corporate taxes are far simpler and by the fact that Florida has no state taxes.  This doesn’t let me off the hook entirely, because my business is incorporated in NY and we have rental property there.  So, we still have state forms to file.

Ergo, I haven’t felt like I could dispense with the services of the accountant altogether.  This may be an area where I am spending money unnecessarily.

On the other hand, I have anxiety attacks when confronted with TurboTax or the like.

I realize I am paying an accountant to transfer numbers from my Quicken reports to the appropriate lines on the tax forms.  Thus far, however, I justify that expense to myself by the knowledge that she knows which numbers and which lines and that, if she is wrong, she will go talk to the IRS and leave me out of it as much as possible.

Am I overpaying?  Probably.

Is it worth it?  I think so.

Anyway, the miracle is that it’s April 15th, and my tax forms have already been completed and filed, and I am done!

Done!

The only thing certain is death and taxes, but neither of the G-men* are coming after me today.

 


* G-men = Government Man and/or the Grim Reaper

Don’t tell the refrigerator

You bought a new car.*

Today’s tip is based purely on superstition.

I don’t give much credence to superstitions.  I quote from the Scottish Play (although I do tend to call it “The Scottish Play”), I walk under ladders, I’m fine with Friday the 13th and black cats.

And this particular superstition is not one I discovered for myself.

I got it out of the Reader’s Digest.

Thanks, Reader’s Digest.  (insert sarcastic growl here)

This is another one of those things where I would like to give credit where it is due, but I can’t remember who wrote the article.  I’m not even sure of the title, although I think it was the same as the headline and sub-head of this post.  That’s how I’ve always remembered it, anyway.

It was a humorous piece about how you can’t quite get ahead of the financial curve.  As soon as you buy a new car, the refrigerator breaks.  (Hence the advice not to tell the refrigerator.)

I don’t know about you, but I have noticed that this is true often enough to suggest, tentatively and with tongue only partly inserted in cheek, that you might want to be a little cautious.

Just recently, I decided we had enough in the remodeling account to replace some fogged windows here at Casa Lagarto and to finally get a tub for the bathroom where what was apparently a clawfoot tub had gotten up on its little clawfeet and walked out of the house with the former owner.

The result of that is that I am spending a fortune in co-payments for physical therapy on my shoulder.

Are the two things related?

Any rational person would say they are not.

I, usually, think of myself as a rational person.

In the middle of the night, giddy from lack of sleep (a frozen shoulder is extremely annoying in that way), I rather wish I’d somehow managed to do the tub and window research so that the left brain didn’t know what the right brain was doing.

So, that’s my tip.  I don’t really think you should lend it any weight.  But, hey!  You never know.

What’s in YOUR wallet?

No, I’m not jumping on the Capital One bandwagon.

I’m asking a serious question.

If you lost your wallet today, would you know what’s in it?  Would you know who to call and what to cancel?

This week’s newsletter from Cheryl Richardson had a reminder, among others, about keeping a record of the contents of your wallet.  She suggested taking 5-10 minutes to make a list of card numbers and customer service phone numbers.

But I’ve got a better tip.  Next time you’re in the library or the UPS store or the FedEx store or anywhere they have a copy machine, shell out fifty cents or so.  Take all the credit cards and ID cards and membership cards out of your wallet, put them flat on the glass, and copy them.  If they have phone numbers on the back, turn them over and copy the backs.  Take the pages home and put them somewhere safe:  file cabinet, desk drawer, wherever.

If and when you lose your wallet, you are going to be SO glad you did that.

I know.  I got pick-pocketed once.  It’s a nuisance, but nowhere near the nuisance it would be if you don’t have the list.

Think about it.

All the phone numbers to call—right there.

All the account numbers to cancel—right there.

All the stress and worry, the danger that you forgot to cancel the one card that’s now being used to buy 37 iPads—out the window.

Isn’t that worth fifty cents or so?