Tax Panic

Frank was doing our income taxes the other day.  We are truly middle class America.  I do have a source of income of my own, but nothing that makes enough to support more than my quilting habit and a couple of vacations each year.  And Frank, of course, has a nice job working for the man.

We have done well over the years, I have started and sold several companies, at a profit.  But again, certainly nothing more than a nice second income.

So when he does our taxes he always struggles with how to key in several of our potentially complicated investments and the rental property.  Currently we are taking a loss on the rental property because I have a soft heart for those less fortunate.  I guess it is my way of giving back to someone who really needs the help.

I look in on him and bring him a tall glass of crystal light blueberry limeade, and he looks up at me and says, with a totally straight face:

This is not going well.  We seem to owe a lot of money this year.

Oh?  I say, we have only owed money one year in the 40 years we have been married.  And that was only $250.

Yes, he says.

How much? I inquire.

$1,348, 672 to be exact, he replies.

I thought, so this is what it feels like to be in that 1%.

glen