My most unpleasant task

My intrepid writing teacher assigned us the title "An Unpleasant Task" for our next class, and I plunged enthusiastically into the following essay, which is as true today as it was a couple of years ago.
An Unpleasant Task

Let’s see. What do I consider an unpleasant task? That is a little bit of a challenge because I don’t usually do unpleasant. If it is the job of cleaning up a disgusting mess, which I will not name at the moment, I make my husband do it. I leave it to the reader to imagine what the mess might be.
There is however, one task which I, and I alone, can do. That is a task which all of us must do once a year, and that time is coming closer and closer. I am referring of course to April 15, the dreaded income tax day. Need I say more?
I used to prepare myself for this most odious of jobs by procuring a bottle of sherry, a box of chocolate candy, and a pot of coffee. Since in days gone by I struggled with capital gains taxes, rental property, retirement checks, social security payments, and minimum alternative taxes, I needed all the help I could get. Many a time I struggled with all of the facets of the many pages and attachments I had to fill out, and thought in my innocence that I was done, only to find out that I had forgotten some vital item and had to do the whole thing over. One year I worked all night, and found to my surprise that while I had been struggling, my poor little cat had been waiting outside in the cold all night. As soon as I let her in, she promptly went into labor and produced two lovely kittens on the sofa. Her ordeal was probably more painful than mine, but the results were more enjoyable.
The job is easier now. I can take standard deductions, I have no rental property anymore and my husband and I can qualify for an expanded exemption total. Does that mean that I can enjoy the process? Not really. My intake of sherry and chocolate candy has been curbed, and all I have to comfort me is a cup of coffee and some nondescript cookies. I still run into unanswered questions which must be researched and unraveled. My husband still hovers over me, anxiously awaiting the final result. Do we have money coming back? Do we still owe more? This year I am pretty sure I will owe, as I cannot take a credit for my grandson’s tuition this year. That will mean that I failed to send in enough estimated taxes and will come up short. Oh well. Ces La Vie.
Why, you may ask, do we not secure the assistance of a tax preparer? Never! I reply. They charge hundred of dollars for the simplest of forms. If I make a mistake, the IRS will tell me. And I have made mistakes! One year I got back $30.00. One year I owed 36 cents. They spent the price of a stamp snd the enclosed letter to tell me that I owed the money, but that since it was less than a dollar, I didn’t have to pay. Go figure.
This year, I will brew a pot of coffee, prepare a plate of organic oatmeal cookies, spread my papers out all over the table, and plunge in. I expect to take all evening, and will fill out the forms in ink and send them in by mail. I will not use the internet. I will not agonize over my math, or worry about whether I need to attach the 1099 forms or triple check everything. I have been doing this since 1948 and can say without hesitation that though this is the most unpleasant experience I can fathom, I am equal to the task. Eventually, I might even learn to enjoy it. Only kidding.