I finally paid my taxes on April 15, shortly before the midnight deadline. Ever since I bought Rancho LaRoo, I’ve had to pay at least several hundred dollars in taxes each year because I filled out my W-4 withholding form incorrectly and never bothered to correct it. At the time I had the option of checking “Head of Household,” so I did. I have a house, I reasoned, and I’m the head of it. Apparently that’s not what the IRS means by that term. I also discovered that it’s not kosher to count cats, dogs, a horse and a Gila monster as dependents.
I really don’t mind paying Uncle Sam every year. Most of the people I know who get tax returns treat them as a kind of interest-free savings account. I’d rather have that money throughout the year to spend on things I enjoy, like rodeos, hookers and beer. I will admit that I am horrible with money. I’ve bought hundreds of books that I’ll probably never read, and am constantly downloading music that I quickly decide I don’t really like after all. I also collect things I don’t need, like various calibers of bullets. I’m not crazy about guns, but I do love bullets.