Short Takes
Sometimes, when facing a deadline, you take shortcuts, riff on nothing burgers, and just do the best you can
For starters, tomorrow is tax day—April 15.
When I started working at the New Jersey Society of Certified Public Accountants in 2001, April 15 was a big, huge, major deal. We cranked out “last minute tips” news releases. The daily newspapers always had stories reported from the lobby of local post offices with tales from readers who were making the last second dash to get their paperwork in on time.
Yesterday I spent a couple of hours inputting data into a tax software program. All of the information I put into the program is already on file with the Internal Revenue Service (IRS). When I “file” my tax return, the IRS will crunch the numbers I put in the tax software program, see that the data they have agrees with what I inputted (essentially checking for typos) and send me a refund check for $835.
I will appreciate the refund check.
But what I would appreciate even more would be for the IRS to send me a message saying: “Hey Ridge (well, “Samuel”—the IRS will call me Samuel). We got your data for the 2023 tax year. Looks like we owe you $835. If you’re good with tat number, click “yes” and we’ll cut you a check. Give us a routing number and account number, and we’ll do a direct deposit in your credit union account. Sincerely, Your Friends at the IRS.”
That would be great as far as I’m concerned.
The big tax prep companies have spent millions lobbying to prevent the IRS from doing that. In December, 2019, Professor Google says an addendum to some law or other lifted the restriction on the IRS that prevented it form developing it’s own e-filing system. Today, the good Professor informs me that the efforts to roll out a government-run free filing system are moving forward. The IRS is planning to launch a pilot program for the current (2024) tax year.
Hey—IRS folks—can you sign me up for that, please?
The Girls and the Squirrel
Jane remined me a couple of weeks ago that I hadn’t written anything about our cats.
There have been big changes in the feline population of Hedgehog House. Two very special cats, Wendy and Amelia, are no longer with us. “The Rainbow Bridge” analogy is sweet and kind. Personally, I have always believed that our animal companions are way better in so many ways than most of the human passengers on Spaceship Earth.
We have two new residents—Phoebe and Emma. Phoebe is a tabby with a stray patch of white fur in the middle of her back, a little nick in on of her ears, and a face that looks like she dipped her muzzle in a chocolate milkshake. She’s sweet, but still working at getting comfortable with the idea of sitting in a lap for any length of time.
Emma, on the other hand, has settled comfortably into her role as Jane’s lap cat. Emma is a golden girl, sits on top of our stairway newel posts like and eagle in her aerie, and shows no fear when the construction workers crank up the power tools.
And, an interesting side note: I named Emma. She is named, I said, for a character to be written later in the second volume of my story about the dancing master—a sequel to Murder & Miss Austen’s Ball. Ergo, Emma is a cat of mystery.
Meanwhile, yesterday, The Squirrel showed up. (A villain in our story?)
We had bird feeders in the back of the house for years, providing Jane and the cats with entertainment. With the construction project, I moved a couple of the to the front.
And now; one of the neighborhood squirrels has discovered them, as the following photo indicates.
All I can say is: This will not end well.
Mystery Mail
My friend. Lorraine Graves, introduced me to traditional dance and encouraged me to go to the Pinewoods dance camp more than 30 years ago. I’ve been a member of the Country Dance & Song Society ever since. Key point: Lorraine lives in South Orange—a nearby town, but not the one where I currently reside.
Jane came back from her church choir gig today with a copy of the CDSS Newsletter. Lorraine had given it to her. (Jane and Lorraine are both in the choir.)
(Cue the Twilight Zone theme music here)
The newsletter she had received had my address on it.
The post office had delivered my copy of the the Newsletter (correctly addressed to me in West Orange) to Loraine, my birthday twin (born same day, same year) in South Orange!
Fade to black.
Anon.
Ridge