Ring, ring, the phone trills this morning. I wonder who would be calling because I’m really not supposed to be home (see yesterday’s post for story). I think it’s probably the automated library call saying I have a book to pick up at my local branch. But it is not the library or a friend.
The very pleasant voice identifies herself as Debbie from the accounting office of XYZ and your income tax papers are ready to be picked up. Fear starts to work its way throughout my body. My thoughts go into high gear. How big will this tax bill be? Last year we got a refund, did they discover a mistake and now we have to repay the amount? However, none of this is relayed to the receptionist as I reply, “I will be in to pick it up.” I am afraid to ask her what the results are, do we owe or does the government owe us?
I can’t stand the suspense. The office is about a 10 minute drive from the house. I leave minutes after the phone call.
As I drive, I can feel my heart is pounding. Breathing is slow and deliberate as thoughts tumble around my head. Can I hope that once again we don’t owe any additional taxes. I am at the door, deep breath and in I go. The results . . .
Relief! I can’t wait to call my husband and share the news. Happy days in the house tonight. We will celebrate with a dish of deep, dark chocolate ice cream. I shall savor every bite and know that I have paid my taxes. No tax man is looming in the background today.
Thankfully, I did not have to get the message on the answering machine and have to wait overnight for the results. All things happen for a reason.