Saturday was rather annoying. I’ve procrastinated long enough, then was sick, then had to buy a rug (another, not less irritating, story – maybe later) – and suddenly, the February is almost over! So I had to man up, brace up and face the Taxes.
¡Mira, panowie! Turbotax is beyond belief. Because of one measly 1099-MISC I was forced to file as “self-employed”, and in addition to normal income taxes pay another half-a-thou as “self-employment tax”! Is it something new IRS invented this year? Since when supplemental freelance gigs, accompanying a solid W2 is considered full-blown “business”? And did you know that Medicare and SS “wages and tips”as basis for namesakes taxes are calculated before your voluntary deductions, unlike your Gross? And the not-insignificant Medicare/SS taxes are not counted into your Federal tax paid – so even though your every paycheck is diminished by 1/4 of it’s worth by taxes, your annual federal obligation demonstrates underpayment? That’s what I call Creative Accounting!
So, not surprisingly, I went to bed in a foul mood, had nightmares all night (sinuses being choked up is no help either) and woke up at 5am. What to do, what to do? Opened my Kindle with latest download of Murder: British Library Classic: a story by Gerald Findler, titled House of Screams. And I read:
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