The Filing Fairy

I Believe in Magical Beings

It’s been said that sex, money, and children are the top three subjects married people fight about. If so, then the fourth must be tax preparation.

Yes, the I. R. S. is directly responsible for family discord this time of year. I’m sure of this because only during tax season does my spouse notice my filing habits. And now that state sales tax has again become a permitted deduction, my spending habits have come under microscopic scrutiny, too. Where, I ask you, will this end?

Part of my problem, I’ll admit, stems from childish beliefs. You see, I hold faith in the Filing Fairy. How else can I explain the news clips in my credenza, the bills in my buffet and the bank statements in my laundry room? I can give no other reason for the kitchen countertops I last saw in 2002 (when we moved in).

Go ahead. Laugh if you like. But if you think about it, it’s not a great stretch to believe in fairies. No greater than, say, believing you might retire comfortably on social security – or that there’s such a thing as fair taxes, honest political campaigns or diets that’ll work for anyone.

Now, I’ll admit my theory has its drawbacks, especially when I need to find something incidental. Like a birth certificate or deed-of-trust or my passport. And my marriage suffers because my husband doesn’t fully grasp this situation. Fairies are elusive beings tethered to no timetable, a concept that’s difficult for me to explain to him at tax time.

“Do you have the receipt for the printer we bought last year,” my mate asked. “You did file that receipt, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” I said. “I’ve got every receipt . . . for the whole year.” I jaunted into the guest room closet and retrieved a shiny gift bag. Displaying the package as though it might be a new purse, I added, “They’re all right here.”

“Right where?” he asked, staring at the sparkly sack dangling from my wrist.

“Right here!” I turned the bag upside down. What followed resembled a Wall Street ticker tape parade. A rain of sales receipts, deposit slips and ticket stubs fluttered like confetti to the floor. I won’t bother to mention who provided the cleanup. But I will say this experience proved educational. I now know that it’s possible to fit 3,742 receipts into a small gift bag – and that I can’t count on the Filing Fairy to keep a schedule.

Still, I believe -- because I can’t afford not to.

So if you see the Filing Fairy in your area, please let her know that she’s overdue at my place. And while you are at it, pass along that same message to the Laundry Leprechaun, the Ironing Imp, the Garage Genie (the one that organizes, not the one that opens the garage door) and the Gardening Gnome. When they all show up, I’ll be in sheer marital bliss.   

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Last Updated: Tuesday, March 25, 2008 09:01 PM