It's the same every year. The Lieutenant Colonel, among whose super powers is the ability to crack the tax code, appropriates the dining room table, sets up shop,
I, meanwhile, sit next to him because we are allegedly working on the taxes together,
It's very non-empowering.
"Don't worry," says Tom. "If I go first you can just hire someone to do all this."
Squinting down a page of inscrutable line items I reply, "No, I really better go first."
It's always an exercise in humility. Having spent the past year shut down by microbes, ten trillion of which weigh less than a raindrop, this time it was so much more so.