Married, filing jointly

So I got the taxes done last night, and it was another case of "What was I so worried about?" Last year's taxes were a nightmare: we'd just gotten married, we'd moved across a state line, and it was my first time having to file as an independent contractor, so there were library books involved, because I didn't know what the hell I was doing.

This year was a comparative walk. I was really worried because I didn't pay quarterlies in advance this year. That can result in penalties if you earn serious money, but there was so little work this year it was no big deal.

I was motivated to get them done yesterday because it was our year-and-a-half anniversary and it means a lot to Spouse that I do our taxes. Despite being a math genius, he used to go to one of those storefront places to get his taxes done! So I wrestle with TurboTax, he makes a big fuss when I give him the final figure, and it makes me feel appreciated.

His beef, which I'm inclined to agree with, is that taxes are too flipping complicated. I have a legal background, so I feel like I should understand what they mean when they say "Copy your total from the 2008 Widget Recycling Incentive Deduction Reduction Credit into the Bonus Box on Form Umpty-million, multiply by Q, do a little dance, make a little love, and use the resulting figure to verify your Seriously Gross Acne-Related Health Expenditures." I am never sure I've gotten it right, and it just shouldn't be that hard! I mean, apparently you can have the financial savvy to consult to the World Bank and still screw up your return. (Not that I'm bitter or anything.)*

I made a little card that spelled out "I love you" and "Sugar Bear" in binary, and concentrating that hard on all the zeroes and ones made me see spots. There was also a little Woodstock**, dressed like Cupid and holding a tiny Whitman's Sampler, for 75% off at the grocery store. I think Spouse was amused, but he's getting alarmed at how rapidly I accumulate stuffed animals.

And for dinner, we did burgers and crazy fries. Crazy fries are what I call Spouse's method of doing up French fries with real bacon bits, shredded cheese, and Ranch dressing, which sounds gross but smells and tastes amazing.

I am so crazily, ridiculously lucky to be happily married. We have our ups and downs, our lumps and bumps, but somewhere under all the clutter and conflict is something real and true. We are just fine. We are great, actually. What a gift.

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*Totally lying here.
**Snoopy's avian life partner.