It’s that time of year again when I begin to gather all the information necessary to complete my taxes.  It’s never hard to find the paperwork I need as I have a pretty impressive filing system and it usually doesn’t take very long and I usually get a refund but I still drag my feet a little.   Perhaps there is a tiny bit of procrastinator in me but please don’t tell my other half I actually admitted this.  His chest would swell up and every button on his shirt would pop off during his “I toll you!” declaration.  Moments like this must be delivered sparingly in a relationship and I’m not quite ready to give him the points for his 100% spot on revelation just yet.   I do, however, have a favorite “tax season” story that I would like to share.  It will help to distract you just in case you run into him and decide to tell him what I admitted.  This memory might also put a smile on your face and if not, it will certainly offer some very sound advice of what not to do while you are sitting in your accountant’s office.   It was a number of years ago that I made my yearly appointment with the guy at the bank that prepared tax returns after hours.  He was a very pleasant man and his wife would usually stay in the office with him as she did a portion of the paperwork as well.  It became rather routine after the first couple of years.  I would go in with my W-2 and an assortment of receipts and some numbers from my little crafting business and he would finger through them and ask a few questions and it was quite uneventful…that is…until the year I decided to look down at the floor while he was going over my receipts.  Typically during this part of the visit there was a bit of silence and for those of you that know me, you know I have a bit of a struggle with silence.  I knew he needed to concentrate and so I tried to occupy my thoughts with a quick look around the office.  I thought about how I would probably paint the walls a different color and rearrange the desks and then, that one particular year, rather than ponder on a new floor covering my eyes attached a super glue like bond to something down towards the end of my pant leg.  I should have just ignored it but the harder I tried, the more curious I got.  What is it?  I managed to override the desire to investigate for a while but eventually that ridiculous curiosity got the best of me and I bent over, ever so slowly and took a hold of the mystery and gave it a pull.  Unfortunately I was not able to make it as unnoticeable as I had originally planned and before I knew it, there was an entire sock in my hand!  I suppose we’ve all had spare socks statically attach themselves to various parts of our clothing at times but I would also be willing to bet those items are usually discovered before you leave the house!  Needless to say, I was immediately struck with bouts of uncontrollable laughter.  I laughed the rest of the time I was there, all the way to my car and all the way home.  It was a somewhat unfortunate event but I must say it makes “tax season” just a bit less taxing every time I think about my stowaway sock and it may have solved the age old missing sock mystery once blamed on the dryer.  Now we know, the dryer doesn’t eat the socks, it just hides them in places you might not think to look until you’re deciding which flooring would work best with the paint color you secretly chose for the walls in your accountant’s office while he was making sure he had all the information he was going to need to proceed with your tax return!