Holy Friday, it's Easter Weekend
Good Friday was a company holiday, which is a bit like a bonus win. It sneaks up on you and it could come on any given Friday in the Spring. I spent my bonus day finishing one dreadful task and beginning another fun one.
Let's start with the dreadful -- shelling out a few hundred dollars to pickup my complicated tax returns.
While the cost came as a blow, it was worth it.
The very delightful tax pro shined a light on things that would never have occurred to me and brought an end to a huge, throbbing headache.
For the past decade or so, I'd been using TurboTax, which is fine when everything is the same year in and year out.
I started out with TurboTax this year but quickly sought professional help when the running tally at the top of the page showed I owed $23,000 in federal taxes! My head had been pounding ever since. I'd already started obsessing over how I could possibly manage a payment plan while drowning in deep, depressing, debilitating debt.
What did i do wrong?
A lot. Turns out selling your car is not earned income and there's a lot more to know about turning one's home into a rental business than I could ever have imagined or taken the time to actually learn.
What a relief it was to find that no taxes were owed to the feds, my new state or my former city. But that rental thing did take a tiny bite from the multiple refunds coming.
The city wants $250 for a SUB unincorporated business franchise tax. Ouch.
Lesson learned -- keep records and better still, organize them and learn more about the business side of owning a rental property.
My new tax professional's office is in SoHo, a part of the island I had not felt compelled to visit -- let alone explore -- before my first tax visit on the previous Sunday. The second visit on Good Friday renewed my interest in exploring the city.
My Good Friday fun task was walking up Broadway and hitting the Union Square farmer's market. I am now happily acquainted with DiPoala Italian Turkey Sausage (hot) purchased from one of the many vendors selling organic food products. I walked until my little feet could no longer carry me before hopping on the train.
The long walk was good for the body (exercise for the day) and good for the soul.
Something about that trek on the other side of Broadway -- away from the bright lights and neon in Times Square -- that made me feel a little bit more at home.
But only just a little. I still hate the train.
While the cost came as a blow, it was worth it.
The very delightful tax pro shined a light on things that would never have occurred to me and brought an end to a huge, throbbing headache.
For the past decade or so, I'd been using TurboTax, which is fine when everything is the same year in and year out.
I started out with TurboTax this year but quickly sought professional help when the running tally at the top of the page showed I owed $23,000 in federal taxes! My head had been pounding ever since. I'd already started obsessing over how I could possibly manage a payment plan while drowning in deep, depressing, debilitating debt.
What did i do wrong?
A lot. Turns out selling your car is not earned income and there's a lot more to know about turning one's home into a rental business than I could ever have imagined or taken the time to actually learn.
What a relief it was to find that no taxes were owed to the feds, my new state or my former city. But that rental thing did take a tiny bite from the multiple refunds coming.
The city wants $250 for a SUB unincorporated business franchise tax. Ouch.
Lesson learned -- keep records and better still, organize them and learn more about the business side of owning a rental property.
My Good Friday fun task was walking up Broadway and hitting the Union Square farmer's market. I am now happily acquainted with DiPoala Italian Turkey Sausage (hot) purchased from one of the many vendors selling organic food products. I walked until my little feet could no longer carry me before hopping on the train.
The long walk was good for the body (exercise for the day) and good for the soul.
Something about that trek on the other side of Broadway -- away from the bright lights and neon in Times Square -- that made me feel a little bit more at home.
But only just a little. I still hate the train.
Comments
Post a Comment