the tax man

kenny had said (while we were sorting through stacks of paperwork) that once this audit was over with, we'd be so proud of ourselves for accomplishing yet another 'grown-up' obstacle of life. (goes along the lines of starting a small business, buying a home, becoming parents, etc) and i thought that was a good way to see it.

it wasn't the number crunching that was difficult. i actually like doing that. i like organizing things and getting everything in order (my obsession with chaos control). so i was surprised by my stress of this unusual kind. i expected the tight neck just from knowing our date with the IRS was looming, but it was all the emotion that went along with that paperwork that really wrecked me. the tax year 2005: so much change. our son was born. the isolation. i struggled with post partum depression and extreme anxiety. (my son was the easiest and most mellow of all babies, i worked from home for the first 6+ months of his life) but the guilt i'll always carry for that, and all that goes with that territory as a new mom, and the tugging of a marriage between business partners. all these memories came up with each category i was organizing. each dated receipt brought me to a place that i didn't even want to experience when it was happening. i certainly didn't want to relive it for the tax man! but we plowed through anyway.

the alarm clock rang and i was so proud of the 3 of us stepping into kenny's jeep at 6:55am on the way to a friends house so river could play while we 'worked'. river commented that the "sun is sleeping", had we ever all been awake this early before? i doubt it. driving through a flashing school zone, we saw families walking, pushing strollers and carrying backpacks in the dark. programming their little ones for life in the working world. it made me sad. i want something so different for river.

downtown austin. 10 stories high. metal detectors. xrays for our paperwork and personal belongings. visitor tags. smiles and positivity dulled by the glaze of fluorescent lights. the drone and buzz of government worker bees in cubicles. grey chairs. white walls. sadness, monotony, tedium without soul. invasive and sterile as a doctors office. poking and prodding with watchful judging eyes.

2 hours into it, i have to excuse myself. i walk down the maze of half walls past the front desk. i can't believe what i hear, a quiet radio singing Bob Dylan to me "when you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose". the irony is deafening. and my laughter echoes in the empty bathroom full of too short toilets, too short sinks, too short mirrors. it's obvious that i don't fit in here.

back at the desk, he speaks with an accent that is hard to understand. he is friendly and smiles alot. he is probably a sincerely nice person. he is just doing his job he keeps reminding us, but my annoyance builds. i start writing down notes to fill the silence and to keep my fingers from scratching the oozing patches of poison ivy that i feel dripping down my legs. i want to remember this. the uncomfort. the invasion. the emotion.

he keeps questioning "but, how did you live?" he blinks and stares at the glowing computer screen. clicky clicky clicky. it doesn't make sense to him. how do you explain this to someone? he says, "yes, i see the numbers. but how did you live?" i'm at a loss and am overwhelmed by the emotion that consumed my life during that year. i want to shake him and scream "what do you mean 'how do you live?' you muddle through the shit, and come out shitty. what else can you do? you're on the mouse wheel and it's spinning too fast to jump off. you have to run faster. you prioritize! you grow a fucking garden and eat vegetables. you don't leave the house for days, weeks, months on end. you are completely crazed, you fight with your best friend day in and day out until your marriage nearly ends in death or divorce. your baby cries, you cry, and you dream of burning down your house. that's how you live!"

we are good honest people, but we left there feeling dirty and used. shamed. after hearing him say it would've been better for the IRS to see us have piles and piles of credit card debt or for us to have gone bankrupt than to simply have made no money. it didn't make sense to us. and we didn't make sense to him. we left it at that, shook hands, thanked him for his time, and walked away. we'll wait for his report in the mail next week. at that time, we can comply or fight.

later, at home, after river was napping and we decompressed, i could speak freely and uncensored to kenny. it was when i realized what it was... it's my blood. it's my ancestors rolling in their graves in Lexington, Massachusetts. it bothers me to my soul. it's Solomon Pierce, riding with Paul Revere shouting 'the redcoats are coming!' from horseback. it's shots fired from muskets. it's tea being dumped in the harbor. this is my lineage, my family. pride. revolution. and today of all days, there's no denying it. it's exhausting because today it took all my strength to sit there politely like a good little girl and play their game when i know they are wrong. so, who does the IRS answer to? who audits the IRS?

i wonder what's wrong with us. with Americans. are we too fat and lazy or just too scared to see that we are being wronged? taxation without representation! are we too comfortable in our lazyboy recliners to stand up and turn off the tv and shout "fuck you!" from the top of our lungs?! today in austin, you'd be happy to know the IRS audited two writers, a bellydancer, a handyman, and a small solar installation company. Today the IRS interrogated mom and pop. today, the IRS wiped their muddy boots on our grassroots. these are the roots of America. this is the soul of our nation! the balances are tipping in the wrong direction!

i want to google "IRS conspiracy" and see what comes up. but why? to fuel some raging angry fire in my belly? to show me what i already know and believe? i don't want that negativity, nothing good comes from it. i'd rather take my yurt, my husband and my son and run away to paradise, never to be found again. with barefeet in the sand, eating mangoes in the shade of some creaky palm tress, i'd laugh at the question "how do you live?"

so, for now, we will revolt and drive biodiesel jeeps and electric 3 wheeled cars. we will block the highway at rush hour with our one man protest of spilling blood for oil. we will keep selling solar til the big oil companies lose their world domination. we will create peace through solar, as we had always planned. this is a new revolution, we will put down our guns and stop fighting, we will use our technology to beat them at their own game. today, at home, we water our garden and seek out the little sprouts bursting through the soil with new life. we bake cakes and lick the frosting from our sticky fingers, and we celebrate spring and life and all that is good.

shaky cake decorating from a shaky day

fruits of our labor, cantaloupe from the 2005 garden