death & taxes

Ironic, a little. This post really is about death and taxes. To keep my mind off of death, I decided to write about...taxes.

I'll get the death part out of the way first. My uncle died Friday morning. It was expected, and almost (I hate to say it) a relief. He was in hospice care (at home) and unresponsive, and I spent all week waiting for the phone call. I finally got it, and couldn't do anything but keep on working. I had to get as much as possible done so I could come home for the funeral.

As I was making a pot of coffee this morning, I remembered how I got my little four-cup coffee maker and when I first used it (and learned how to make coffee). That was at Grandpa's house the day he was dying. It was my job to make coffee for everyone, and since several of us were there, I made quite a few pots. I started drinking coffee that day, too. I'm getting closer to the have-to-have-my-coffee-everyday type of person, but I still need it the most when I need to be comforted. I don't remember what day that was; was it in April, too? It was about ten years ago, but it makes me sad that I can't remember. I did remember something else while I was pondering that, though--today is the third anniversary of Sadie's death. And I didn't bring her to Michigan with me. As morbid as it sounds, keeping her ashes near me has helped, especially on this day. It hurts that she's 610 miles away right now.

Here I meant to write about taxes (to keep my mind off death, remember) and I'm almost in tears. Well, here comes the taxes part, and believe me, it's a doosey. (Did I spell that right?)

I've never been married before, so this year was my first experience of Filing Taxes Jointly. We had a guy do it for us (a first for me, too, since I've always done my own) and it went smoothly. Imagine my surprise when, lo and behold, Al tells me he received my state tax refund. Made out to him. Since we live in separate states, I had assumed they'd send it to me as usual--after all, I had done the work, gotten paid the measly sum I get for one of the hardest jobs on earth (teaching), and so--I assumed--I'd be getting the refund, which I desperately needed. Not that Al won't just give me the money if I need it; I just hate asking for it. I like thinking that I can take care of myself, even if it does mean that the government helps me to get neck-deep in debt before I graduate. Al, on the other hand, is the perfect man as usual, and very careful to talk about our finances and the money that we make, not differentiating between my measly salary and his (compared to mine) substantial one.

Anyway. I was outraged, offended, etc. that the government would send my money to a man just because I had married him. And I couldn't keep my disbelief/contempt/anger hidden from my husband. And I surprised myself because I by no means consider myself a feminist and, like I said, I knew Al would just hand it over if I told him I needed it. But I kept harping on it. I couldn't let it go. I told him--only half jokingly--that next year we're filing with my name first so that the tax refunds would come back in my name. I finally got myself under control, even told him to go ahead and cash it if he wanted to (pointing out that I'd need money for my last month's rent soon anyway, since I only get paid half of my usual salary in May), said good night and hung up the phone. I managed to put it behind me and go to sleep.

I saw the check when I arrived in Michigan last night. It's made out to both of us. His name first, and our Michigan address (although the tax guy knew I still kept an out-of-state apartment), but my name is on it. Which means I have to sign it in order for it to be cashed, which means all of the tax checks will probably come back that way. My husband just forgot to tell me that little detail, which makes a tremendous difference.

Still, though, we may be filing with my name first next year...just for the heck of it.