Just when (you think) the chaos in your life is at the maximum level, the post-office puts a bomb in your mailbox.
Not the exploding kind, but the kind that raises your blood pressure and makes the headache that you thought was already bad turn into a migraine. You know you’re in trouble because the return address is: “Internal Revenue Service” and it is not even near the holidays.
Sure enough, we made a mistake. A typo that our software should have noticed when it did the math. We were too excited about getting a refund for once, to realize something was off. The official document insisted we send them $10,000.oo. Yes, you read that number correctly. And who says the IRS has no sense of humor?
Hey! Wait a minute. There is a typo on our 2010 form and we have to pay them what we still owed. Plus interest. We were not the ones that took 2 years to find the mistake – we sent our return in on time. Now they want the interest that the absent money could have earned. Oh, Really? I want to know where the Hell they invest their money. I would like to earn that kind of interest myself!
I can understand about the interest. Almost. But a fine?? Sorry, we messed up and here’s your money + interest. Now please go away. But NO, you’re punishing us. To teach us not to mess with the IRS? We don’t. Hell, they know how much money we earn – they have the damned forms.
Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.
We shall pay their bill (what choice do we have?), but not until the other chaos in our lives has settled down and we can find where we hid the damned thing….