Have I not suffered enough?

I’m an unemployed single mother, dumped by her partner of 23 years, selling the family home. Did life really need to find new ways to torture me?

Just when I was starting to write all this uplifting stuff about how I’m on the mend, mourning period over … Raj from the tax office calls to chastise me for not filing my 2012 and 2013 tax returns. He tells me he must have them by July 1. He sternly mentions fines.

When will I learn not to answer when my phone says “no caller ID”?

Lucky Raj got to hear a potted version of how shite 2012, 2013 and 2014 have been for me and, while he sounded sympathetic and assured me he was taking notes on my “situation” for my file, stood firm.

I hate doing my taxes. Husband always does the taxes (although it appears to have fallen by the wayside due to other priorities in the past two years). I find them terrifying, almost as scary as changing a tyre … excuse me while I set the women’s movement back a few decades … I have no idea why I was perfectly at ease juggling a weekly magazine budget in the six figures but get so totally freaked out by something as minor as a tax return.

Moving forward, all bill paying and tax returning will be my responsibility, so I’d better suck it up princess. I know I can do it. Early in my marriage I handled all the bills and wrangled the big financial dealings like buying houses and stuff.

But somewhere along the way my confidence ebbed and I decided it was all too hard.

Pfft, I didn’t know what hard was.

I just can’t face it right now. So I sent Husband a mercy text explaining the situation. He replied with “never rains but it pours”, which didn’t exactly strike me as an offer to help. So I stomped and pouted around the kitchen a bit then texted back to ask if he WOULD help.

Thankfully he said yes and got on the case, for the last time, at least where tax returns are concerned. He came to “ruttle in the attic” last night and headed off with whatever bits and bobs he could scrounge.

But, moving forward, I’m on my own.

I know I can do it. I’m a capable woman. I don’t need a bloke to sort my problems out. Mind you, I’m going to miss having someone to sort the problems out. It was rather nice to send Raj’s details to Husband so he could do the dirty work.

On the other hand, Husband is probably thinking Thank Christ I won’t have to put up with this shite for much longer.

Are you a diligent bill payer and tax returner? 

Song of the day: The Beatles “Taxman” (well, George Harrison and Eric Clapton sing this version)