This week I found two oddly conflicting messages in my gmail. One of them was from daughter Susy showing me a photo of one of fields here that day. A very nice thing about this farm is the way Mother Nature likes to show off. Susy’s message said: “The rainbow begins and ends at Kartar Ridge Ranch. Spring has officially arrived with wind, rain, sleet and hail!”

As any well-moistened citizen of the Pacific Northwest can attest – April showers bring May showers! It’s Spring! And now we can do some serious gardening. And enjoy the rainbows, the dandelions, the earthworms, and the wee sprouts struggling to avoid drowning.

“Spring has sprung, The grass has riz. I wonder where my raincoat is.” The engagement with the radishes, the dahlias and the petunias has begun!

Or maybe not. The other gmail message was from an accountant at the company that “does” my taxes. It said: “The filing deadline for your 2021 tax return is fast approaching, and we have not received your tax organizer or documents. At this point, with your permission, we will need to plan to file an extension.”

I get this message from her every single year. It’s her devious way of ruining April for me. She already knows full well that I’m going to be late, but this way she can formally lay on the guilt. Shame on tardy me! Gardening is no excuse. Well, at least I’m consistent.

Her company has been “doing” my family’s taxes for the past 31 years. I have never met her or any of the folks who work at her company in person because I don’t have the nerve to. This is because of the first conversation I ever had with one of them – back in the days of the green eyeshades, the adding machines, and the red and black ink.

After assessing the reports and figures I had mailed in the first time, the accountant called me. “I have a question about your deductions. You seem to be presenting them as ‘estimates’. The IRS doesn’t accept ‘estimates’. Can you send me your reconciled transaction listings?”

“Ha Ha!” I responded, jovially. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t usually reconcile the accounts. They have to learn to deal with their marriage issues without any intervention on my part.”

I heard a long silence. Then she gasped “WHAT?” Did you just say that YOU DON’T RECONCILE? What kind of a slut ARE you???”

Well, actually, those may not have been her exact words, but I definitely got the message. And probably so did everyone else in the office. What kind of worthless heathen scum fails to RECONCILE?

Ever since, I’ve been very careful never to show up there in person. I have been extremely fastidious about reconciling almost every account but not on what you’d call a timely basis.

There are problems with my method. For one, I don’t get around to doing my balancing act till a few weeks after Uncle Sam’s tax deadline; and because 10 months have gone by since I last did it, I have to go through the nasty Quicken learning curve all over again. In spite of my shoddy lack of respect for all those pristine recommended accounting practices, however, I still manage to triumphantly Do the Deed by the extension deadline of October, thus avoiding the inconvenience of jail time.

The accounting company I use probably has three classified client categories: Corporate Clients; Individual Taxpayers; and Disreputable Slobs. Being in the latter group explains why I never show up there in person. Nobody likes getting stared at, sniffed at, or spit on, just because they’re a little bit UNRECONCILED and TARDY.

At least I’m not alone in my procrastination. When I was a child, all the arithmetic had to be done by hand and on paper, and then it all had to be delivered by the tax deadline to the nearest IRS office in person.

I’m trapped. It’s no use trying to wiggle out of it another day. The ax has fallen. The wolf is at the door. It’s time to face the music, to brave the advancing hordes. I can’t think of any more cliches, so I’m going to have get to work! For sure! I’m going to plow right into it tomorrow morning. Or maybe Wednesday. Thursday, for sure. As soon as we get the dahlia tubers planted, and the hall closet decluttered, and I catch up on Yellowstone Season 2, and several other really urgent activities. . . . .