April 15th

A day to talk about paying taxes? Hell, no. More like a day to discuss procrastination.

I confess. I’m a huge believer in the old axiom: never do today what you can put off until tomorrow. You say that’s not quite the way it goes? Shrug. I can never remember axioms. Probably something to do with words that have x’s in them.

Anyway, I’m the queen of procrastination. An expert on shuttling tasks into the future. In truth, I think we can go back to that counting thing (see earlier post) to locate the problem. I just don’t know how to say to myself: Now is the perfect time to sit down and do your taxes. Now is the precise moment at which the experience will exact the least amount of pain. See what I’m saying? That moment doesn’t exist. Doing your taxes is NEVER fun.

So, instead I leave it until the very last minute. Deferred non-gratification, I guess. And every year I SWEAR it’s the last time I’ll do them myself. Even with the aid of Turbo Tax which so kindly transfers all of last year’s information so I don’t have to type it in again. (Beware: it also very kindly inserted the exact same rental income/expense figures from last year which was SO wrong.)

Here are the things I’m most fond of procastinating on:

Doctor’s exams
Dental checkups
Car registration renewal (or any other bill, for that matter)
Watering houseplants
Going to the gym (tomorrow is ALWAYS a better day)
Taking out the trash
Sending birthday cards
Buying Christmas presents
Grocery shopping

Hmm…you name it, I can figure out a reason to delay doing it…that is, unless it’s something fun. My scores for the Daphne Contest are due later in the month and I’m almost finished—might even send them in AHEAD of time. Um, on second thought, why would I do that?

Hey, I’m not an idiot. My taxes are done and there are (as of this writing) still eleven hours left. Well, okay. I lied. I haven’t printed them yet, and they’re not in the mail, but I’ve got four more hours at the office for that. Hell, I could even meter the envelopes and come in tomorrow and mail them.

Sometimes living on the edge is a thrill.