Well, that and my mom's unexplainable desire to force feed me every food I hate the minute I walk through her door.
I don't know how many times I've told the woman I detest squash, lentil soup and chili, but they seem to be her only offering the minute she sees my face.
"What did you make yourself for dinner?", she'll ask.
"Some broccoli cheddar soup."
"WHAT!!? There was perfectly good lentil soup and chili in the fridge and you made that!??.."
"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, mom. I hate lentil soup AND chili."
"Why!?? They're delicious!"
"Mom! I don't have to think they're delicious. Not everyone has to like what you like!"
"They would if they loved me..."
And so, I repeat.
Only three things in life are certain: death, taxes and matronly guilt trips.
Thus, I had the inexpressible joy of filing my taxes last night.
First year I've done it entirely on my own.
I mean, I've always been present to show emotional support to my dad when he's helped me these past four years. ('Emotional support' here meaning looking on with a blank stare when he asks me questions that I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about then cowering in fear when he uses his 'stern' voice.)
Either way, it's not an experience I look forward to.
My one consolation is that I usually get a good chunk back, seeing as I've been a full-time student during the fall and winter and therefore only able to work full-time in the summers. This equated to big buck tax returns.
But this year, I was sadly disappointed. Because I earned a full-tuition scholarship my last two semesters, I was sucker-punched in the tax gut.
Why am I being punished for being successful?..
So I guess the old adage is true: life sucks and then you die.
Or more aptly, mothers guilt trip, taxes suck and then you die.
Inspiring, eh?
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