21st century woes…

I guess the state no longer prints and mails me tax forms for the year. The library does not have them. H&R Block does not have them; I can’t find them anywhere.  The Feds apparently don’t distribute them at the Post Office any more, and it’s been awhile since I got any of that stuff in the mail.

Oh shit, I should have started this project earlier, but all I got last tax season was Unemployment and I don’t owe anyone anything. Can you say "I’m real fuckin’ poor?"

I don’t qualify for the Earned Income Credit because Unemployment is not earned income. Federal and State taxes were taken out of my Unemployment, and with a tax rate of zero, they are all refundable, BUT, mistakes were made when I was doing the newspapers as an "Independent Contractor" in the early 2000’s, and as far as the Feds are concerned, I owe them taxes, interest, and penalties. I went to the IRS office last summer and showed them copies of my bank statements, and they stamped my "debts" as "Uncollectable" because you can’t get something from nothing, but they will, however, keep all the taxes taken out of my Unemployment. (which got 10.7% taken off of it because of the Sequester, as of March, and looks to have ended anyway).

Another "Oh Shit!!!"

I just spent a few hours looking for the Federal Tax forms, driving here and there and you can’t find them anywhere either. I did get 1040EZ forms from a Tax Prep office, so there’s that, but everything else is only available online, and I’m out of ink for my printer, and broke, and shit out of luck. The state refund will just about cover that bogus Child Support bill that has been hanging over my head for 15 years… but if I can’t file, I can’t get a refund to be seized, and it looks like, wait for it, I’m shit out of luck there too.

It really, REALLY sucks to be this poor.

I mean, yeah. I don’t owe anyone anything (because, duh, I don’t HAVE anything) but if I can’t file because I don’t have ink for the printer, well, I am, here we go again, shit out of luck.

Thank god, on the one hand, that I am on anti-depressants, but on the other hand, they aren’t working all that well against these depressing facts of life anymore.

I see the doc next week; maybe we’ll up the dose or something; VocRehab has been paying for the meds, otherwise I’d be, you guessed it, Shit Out Of Luck.  I have been living with this depression for most of the last 15 years.  That does and has, and looks like it will continue to suck.  Being a Poor White MAN means there’s almost no help at all out there.

All of that would be deal-able, but… Multnomah County instituted an "Art Tax" of $35.00 this year, as a surprise, last-minute tax, unless you are living under the Poverty Level (hello, that’s ME) but they require a printout of the Federal Tax form and another form (which I do have) to get out of the tax, and if I can’t print out the tax forms I fill out online, I can’t submit a copy of that form, and the County will fuck me over, because I didn’t pay their"Art Tax".

Catch 22 was a different sort of double bind, but the phrase applies here too, and it looks like I am, not to repeat myself too much…

Shit Out Of Luck.

Maybe I should change my diary’s name, eh?

"Sometimes a great Notion" to "Shit Out Of Luck".

SOL for short.

I’m starting to hear that balcony whisper to me again, in a snarky, Republican voice.

"Cat, you’re a waste of space and air.  Jump."

But I don’t want to!

"You, Cat, are Shit Out Of Luck"

 

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