Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Taxes...Ugh.

          
           I once had a friend who suggested I was allergic to numbers; I think he may be right. It’s not that I don’t have a healthy respect for numbers. Having reflected upon my numero-phobia at length, I have come to realize that as a matter of creativity itself, one must embrace numbers, after all nothing new begins without a number to start things off.
For instance, you start a new project (as I have this week) you need a budget, a start date, a timeframe…These things -- all numbers. For weeks leading up to this, my builder and I have been crunching numbers, both of a budgetary nature and of a layout / design nature. (In the case of my barn, there are dimensions to decide, interior spaces to mark off… board widths, beam lengths, ratios of roof pitch… Again, all numbers.)
            But these numbers I love, for they fall into the flow of the creative process. Not only do they flow with it, I can’t start creating without them. No, these numbers are my friends.
            The numbers that halt me dead in my tracks are tax numbers, columns of numbers, checkbook numbers. Numbers I’ve been taught how to balance since I was knee-high to a duck being the daughter of a country banker, but numbers that just aren’t fun for me, because they are pure accounting exercises…numbers for the sake of numbers. (i.e. there are no pictures for me to put with them…no barn drawings, no sketch pads with grid lines, no magazine clippings). Because these numbers are basically no fun, I save them till the very last possible minute, which as you might imagine, is heck on my accountant. (Thank God she is a good and patient woman.)
            It’s not that I don’t keep up with numbers. Oh, I respect them mightily. I keep every receipt; document every tidbit of detail. Keeping track of numbers involves a touch of creativity as it involves writing on the back of things, and I love writing things down. But the actual “butt to chair” exercise of tallying rows and rows of numbers (once I plug them into their little holes and columns, which isn’t rocket science, but it does take time, and extra for me because I’m numbers-resistant) well, I’ve become all but phobic about the process of it all, dreading like the plague having to get my things in order come tax time. (As you might imagine, I’m the queen of tax extensions, even when I’m due a refund, which makes no sense at all, but that’s the way it goes when you just don’t like numbers. And while it’s true, farming doesn’t bring in a lot of numbers on the income side of things, even if it did, I would still loathe sitting down with numbers...It’s not which column they are in, or which side of the ledger they’re on, it’s the sheer exercise of putting things into columns that I deplore.) Bottom line: I’m simply not at home in the left hemisphere of my head.
            But life being what it is, doesn’t give me the luxury of avoiding said hemisphere. I’ve got to eat, and what’s more, I’ve got 16 kids, 5 dogs, 1 cat and 2 fish depending on me. And while I have the best and most patient person (actually several) to help get things tabulated, tallied and properly placed per the forms for Uncle Sam, there comes that dreaded moment where I must concede:  “This is it, Evins. Today you must face your numbers,” (which also explains why the blog posts have backed up…That was me…Forcing myself to finish my spinach before indulging myself in the dessert of blissful, numberless writing. (My blog, I’ve been holding in abeyance, like some carrot dangling before me, it’s been whispering  “Not till you finish your numbers!”)
            It’s kind of odd, actually. For once I hand off said numbers, having cross checked every Pyrenees pup sold to every goat chow receipt retained, there is a great (albeit brief) moment of euphoria. (It happens simultaneous to the moment of raw angst I have just inflicted upon my CPA.) But completing the numbers, knowing the numbers, facing the numbers…is actually a healthy feeling. For how can one measure which areas need help, which areas perhaps need overhauling entirely, if not by comparing last year’s numbers to this, assessing, “Do we continue with this?” or “Can we afford to start that?” No, I like what comes after. I like seeing my shoebox of receipts now paper clipped  and post-it'd. It’s simply that one moment where my creative/right brain must surrender to the left, like Hiccapups going belly up to TJ in alpha acquiescence. I am aware I do this. I am aware it is not the most efficient approach to things. I am aware this year, like every year, I pledge to do it different next year. And I’m also aware that the busier I get and the more projects I take on, the less apt that is to happen.

            The good news (and the point of this tiresome blog on numbers): The taxes got done! Great joy in the Evins household. We live to eat another day! (And look. It’s not even October. Perhaps I’m getting better after all.) I can now get back to setting barn posts and plugging blog posts about such things as being allergic to numbers.

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