We are meeting with our tax guy this weekend. While dear old Dad has done a real whiz-bang job since I first started scooping ice cream at age 15, the time has come to bring in a professional. I mean, I changed jobs, bought a house, got a fatty first-time buyer’s credit, used that to get some blissfully draft-free, tax-credit-eligible new windows, and got married.
Taxually, that boggles my mind. The mister and I could not even fill out our new W4s without a quick call to the tax man.
Why is this a Sign I Might be Crazy?
I’m really looking forward to spending Saturday morning with the tax guy. I’m ridiculously excited to see how my withholding changes and (most importantly) what our return will look like. I’m no math genius, but I sure do like big numbers on checks made out to me.