There are a lot of promises coming from politicians.  They spout this and that about taxes especially, but the truth is that my taxes keep going up.  I know that I’m not on of the wealthy but that package from my tax preparer took my breath away for the second year in a row.

We are careful with our expenses since we live in such an expensive city.  The cost of living in San Francisco is without mercy.  Trying to carve out a living here is like a juggling act.

Tax day is an added burden for all of us who are self-employed.  We have to pay quarterly estimates to Uncle Sam.  If we don’t he dings us with a big bill on April 15.

The mail came.  In it was a large envelope from my tax preparer.  He usually has good news for me; this year it would be bad news.

I sighed deeply when I read the summary from my professional tax preparer.  We then talked on the telephone to get some clarification.  But, the law is the law.

Rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s is not a happy moment.  Uncle Sam is no doubt looking forward to receiving our check in the mail.  I purse my lips and get ready to pop that envelope into the mail.

When government wastes millions on poor ventures I see my hard-earned dollars going down the drain.  Wealthy politicians keep getting raises, telling me how they need to spend my money and then they give empty assurances of how much relief is coming.  It sounds rather hollow as I fill up my gas tank on my way to the Post Office.

As hard as it is to keep on funding fiscally irresponsible leaders in Washington, my only recourse is to vote in November and keep on finding ways to save for payday to Uncle Sam.  It is an odd recourse.  But, God knows, He provides and gives me a chance to express my feelings in writing.

photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography

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