Thursday, January 12, 2006, 21:10
Splitting Hairs
I am up to my elbows, practically, in tax forms, trying to figure out my state sales tax so I can file the return.
Not that it's so difficult to FIGURE OUT the state sales tax, and how much I have collected, and how much I owe the state. It's the actual filing that will be a pain in the neck. That's because, according to the state, I have to make a separate notation for each of the counties where I have shipped books.
I have sold books in 35 of Wisconsin's 72 counties. The only problem is that in many of those counties, I have sold one book, or sometimes two. That means I owe that county either 7 cents or 15.3 cents in sales tax. Which seems rea;lly silly to me. Even if there were a thousand people like me for each county, it would only amount to $70 -- or $153. Counties probably spend more than that just turning on the lights in their offices and turning on their computers in the morning.
But no, in the state's infinite wisdom, every person who makes sales in a county must file sales tax for that county. And you don't have to be physically present in the county to make the sale. Merely sending the book through the mail to someone who lives in that county means you have made a sale in that county.
To my way of thinking, wouldn't it just be easier to put the money from those very small businesses into one general fund on the state level and leave it at that? Why not set a limit? For instance, if you owe a particular county less than $20 in sales tax, it all automatically goes into the state's general fund, and anything over $20 will go to that particular county.
Think of the time it would save! A system like that would save me maybe four hours of work -- or more. A system like that would save the state time because someone would not have to deal with the 7 cents . Not just from me, but from anyone and everyone else who falls under those guidelines. Sure, all of those transactions are done by computer. But someone has to enter the information into the computer, or at the very least, someone has to be there to monitor the computer doing the work.
I mean, really. I have a hard time believing that those counties which will get 7 cents from me (and maybe from a thousand people like me for a grand total of $70 for the year) -- will go broke if they don't get their 7 cents.
This, in my opinion, is one of the things that has gone wrong with the world lately. Too much paperwork. Not enough common sense.
| Do you know of a situation where the amount of paperwork does not justify the result? Or do you know of another situation that's an example of the "world gone crazy?" What about pharmacists spending 75 percent of their time on the phone with insurance companies trying to get claims straightened out rather than spending their time filling prescriptions? Or what about nurses who spend half of their time on paperwork rather than on taking care of patients? Click on the comments/no comments link below to tell us about "the world gone crazy" from your perspective. |
Wednesday, January 11, 2006, 21:42
Seek. . .And You Shall Find (Eventually)
I'm all right. Really. I am. Honest.
In fact, I feel quite relaxed. Tired, even. That's because I am still coming down off a sustained adrenalin rush -- that occurred almost 24 hours ago, now.
It all started Tuesday afternoon at 4:30 when I was getting ready to feed the horses. When I am ready to feed the horses in the afternoon, my inside/outside kitties, Gilligan (a large red tom), MaryAnne (his fluffy red-and-white sister), Rocky (a big black tom I raised by hand from a newborn a year and a half ago after he and his sister fell out of the nest in the barn) and Juliette (Rocky's sister) are ready to come into our walkout basement for something to eat and to find a nice comfy spot to curl up and sleep.
Gilligan, MaryAnne and Rocky all came inside after being outside for most of the day.
But where was Juliette?
I went outside several times and yelled for her. Sometimes Juliette is occupied with watching a bird or a squirrel and does not always come right away.
But Juliette did not appear. I went back in the basement and put out dry kitty food and measured out the horse feed.
Once again, I went outside and called for Juliette -- but I still did not see her.
Thinking that she might be down in the barn, I put on my coat and picked up my pails of horse feed, but a few moments later when I arrived in the barn, I discovered that Juliette was not there.
"Could she possibly be in the basement already? Could she have slipped in when I wasn't looking?" I said to Kajun as I put the feed in his feed box. I did not think it was likely because surely I would have seen her when I was inside before. And besides, when would she have come in without me seeing her?
I went back to the basement to get warm water for Kajun. During the winter, my old gelding will not drink water if it is not warm. And he will not drink if the water is not there immediately when he is finished eating his feed.
"Juliette? Are you in here?" I said, as I drew water for Kajun.
Gilligan, MaryAnne and Rocky all clustered around my feet. But no Juliette.
After I took Kajun's water to the barn, I called for Juliette again. Then I went back in the house to get Isabelle's water. Isabelle does not like warm water. She doesn't mind if I "take the chill off" but she does not like warm water.
"Juliette?" I said again, "Are you in here?"
Once again, Gilligan, MaryAnne and Rocky all clustered around my feet. But no Juliette.
I took Isabelle's water out to her pasture and put out hay for both horses. Usually, when I am doing something with the horses, Juliette will come to keep me company if she is outside.
But Juliette did not appear.
By now the sun had set and it was beginning to grow dark. I walked to the edge of the yard, on the side toward the neighbor's fields and pine plantations, and called for Juliette. It was dark enough that I knew I would not see her until she was right beside me.
But no Juliette.
In the almost two years that Juliette has lived here, she has never done anything like this -- has never spent a night outside -- and in fact, has always been eager to come in the house and get something to eat after a day of playing and doing what kitty cats do.
"Come on, Pixie," I said. "You can go in the house, and Charlie and I are going to look for Juliette."
I put Pixie inside and grabbed a flashlight. Then Charlie and I walked up and down the road by our house, looking for Juliette. I was hoping that I would not find her lifeless little black body lying in the ditch beside the road.
And I was hoping, now that it was completely dark, that Juliette had not wandered away into the woods -- or farther out into the neighbor's field -- because what if she had come across a coyote? The coyotes have been howling at night. I have heard them when I give the horses more hay before going to bed. Sometimes the coyotes are out in our hayfield. Sometimes they are just across the road in the neighbor's woods. One night, it sounded as if the coyote was in the neighbor's yard.
Eventually I returned to the driveway -- without having seen hide nor hair of Juliette.
"Could Juliette be inside already?" I said to Charlie.
But that was impossible. I had been inside the basement four times already, looking for her, and if she had been inside, she would have come when I called her name.
At this point, I had been searching for Juliette for over an hour. I went back in the basement, determined to look in all the nooks and crannies. There are a thousand places in the basement that a kitty cat could hide, although I had already looked in all the places where Juliette likes to nap.
I checked under the workbench. No Juliette, of course.
When I turned around, Rocky was by my feet -- and I stepped on his toes.
"RAOWWWW!" Rocky said.
Whenever a cat is under your feet and you step on his or her toes, it is all your fault because you are a BIG, BAD, MEAN PERSON.
"Rocky! I'm sorry!" I said.
Rocky looked up at me with an accusing expression in his eyes.
"Meow."
Meow?
Wait just a dog-gone minute.
Who said 'meow?'
Did Rocky just meow at me?
"Rocky, did you just meow at me?"
"Meow."
No, Rocky did not meow at me. He was looking up at me, but his mouth had not moved.
"Meow."
I turned around. . .
. . .and there was Juliette.
"JULIETTE!" I said. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I HAVE BEEN WORRIED SICK THAT YOU GOT HIT BY A CAR OR THAT A COYOTE HAD GRABBED YOU."
The little black cat hopped up on the step ladder, which is her favorite perch, looked at me and once again said, "meow."
All at once, the adrenalin left my body, and I felt like I wanted to collapse.
So, I did. After I shakily sat down in a chair, Juliette jumped up on my lap.
"Where were you?" I said.
Juliette's only response was to purr -- and to hide her head in my hand, which means she wants to be petted.
After I had assured myself that Juliette was all right, I went upstairs to get Pixie. I still had to take the dogs for a walk, and then I could put Charlie in his kennel and feed him his supper.
The dogs and I did not walk very far. My legs were still wayyyyy too much like rubber for me to walk more than a half mile total. Besides, it was completely dark, and we have heard coyotes howling close by when we've been walking before supper, too, as well as late at night when I go out to give the horses more hay. I certainly did not need to break up a fight between Charlie and some coyotes. I had already met my quota of adrenalin for the day, thank you very much.
What I still have not figured out, though -- is when did Juliette come inside? Did she scoot past me into the basement when I was bringing Kajun's water outside? Did she scoot past me when I was bringing Isabelle's water outside? Did she sneak in when I stood by the door, yelling for her?
I have no way of knowing, and at this point, I don't think Juliette is likely to tell me.
LeAnn R. Ralph
