Ah, Fiddlesticks

The IRS sent me a letter.

After I restarted my heart by sticking my moistened fingers in an outlet, I discovered that I'd apparently made some type of math mistake. Or filled out the tax form wrong. Whatever it was, my taxable income was higher than I had thought.

I should probably try to figure out if they are right or I am. But the mistake wasn't life-threatening. And the thought of the lengthy, orifice probe that interaction with the IRS can evolve into is not something I wish to risk. I might rue the day that I spent the time to "win" this dispute rather than just getting a minimum wage part-time job to make up for the reduced refund.

And if I'm wrong, just fighting is the penalty, no? A guy at my last place of work enjoyed telling me about how the IRS was an authority that made up its own rules notwithstanding quaint notions of rule of law and precedent. He got a tax specialist newsletter that served to warn those in the business of the latest "where'd that come from?" change in how the IRS played the game.

So I'll probably just cash my smaller refund and be done with it.

It is an error, I know, to count tax withholding as some type of savings plan.

But life goes on. Next year when I'm up on the big table under the bright lights completing the forms, I'll be more careful and hope to be safely deposited on some deserted rural road with orifices unprobed.