Bummers All-Around
I spent several hours sighing this morning—and I mean 2 a.m., it was still last night to me—thinking, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD” while I did my taxes.
Everything is fine. I’m healthy (I am SURE that I am going to get sick this week), I have all the body parts I started the week with (they hurt, but it’s January!), I just owe a LOT of money.
I grew up being told not to tell everyone you owe a shitload of money to the state and the federal government but here we are. Did you know if you owe more than $1k to the feds they charge you a fine? An underpayment penalty! Despite learning this, TODAY, I am still going to say that I’m really good with money. I just don’t have as much of it as I thought I should!
Almost every night in the shower I calculate what I would need to make to rent my apartment alone (over $100,000) because in New York City you need to make 40 times the rent to sign a lease. I make more than 40 times the rent for my room, which is enormous progress (and luck, honestly) but a one-bedroom costs so much more than my current apartment, and when the conversation with myself reaches that point I try to think of something else, instead. My nightly shower is too sacred to circle the drain on my lack of finances.
I know it’s so déclassé to tell you this. We both know I would (and will) blab about it over beers. And there isn’t a single thought I’ve had since 1998 I haven’t put in print and simultaneously online. (Speaking of, looking at the archives of Macaroon Shindig was the other thing I was going to do Monday night, so hopefully, that’s on the horizon.)
It’s weird how I have failed all of the rules I was supposed to follow. Don’t make waves! Why can’t you just get along? I’m not rebellious. I declined to protest last weekend because I can’t afford to get arrested or march and get to work on time. I've missed so many marches because I work on Saturdays.
I think a lot of us (not just us three, but lower and middle classes) are going to be absolutely fucked when they do their taxes. (Editorial note, my therapist said helpfully this afternoon that she's already read that "people will be surprised.") The feds made changes to tax brackets and even believing I was making $20,000 I knew I’d owe money. I tried to determine how to soften the blow, but apparently, my calculations were wrong.
I Googled this for us, and so I wouldn't look stupid in front of strangers, and all I found was news about the Fair Tax Act, which I do not favor. I favor taxing the wealthy. I don't mind paying taxes! I mind owing taxes. I support free education (and a good free education), paved roads, and libraries. I think hygiene products should be free, and so should wifi, and public transportation. I do not think I should spend $127 a month on the subway. I think it should be free and it should rival the systems in Japan (which I understand are the best in the world, though rest assured I will be Googling the FUCK out of that later). (YOUR GIRL LOVES TRAINS.)
It feels like I’ll never get ahead. That’s how the system is designed. This morning I calculated how much to have withheld from my paychecks going forward. I don’t know what will suffer as I set aside money to make this payment—not my plans to travel and not the overpriced skin gummies.
Taking them feels like some kind of self-care. I am not glowing but I want to believe I am taking an active step toward…something. (That’s a personal link, which is the first time I’ve ever done that! Only because we know each other.)
I picture that money going directly into Mitch McConnell’s coffers. This is going to hurt people who aren’t Brooklyn bartenders without dependents, too.
People are already hurting financially. People haven’t been spending money since inflation spiked last year, and Dry January has only made it worse in the industry. I finally decided two weeks ago to stop expecting that I would go out and do something once a week—I’m too tired, too sore—but I did resolve to go to Ciao Gloria for coffee and treats. They’re not part of the nightlife, but I know other luxuries are allegedly being denied, and I’ll enjoy as much pastry cream, as I want, thanks.
As I explained to my poor therapist, I get an iced coffee at Ciao Gloria on Wednesdays and an iced coffee at Daughter after I go to the gym on Mondays, and an iced coffee at Little Zelda on the way to work on Fridays. These are all pretty new developments, so there's no need to reply to this newsletter to say, "If you just had coffee at home you could pay back the IRS without a problem." I am not spending hundreds of dollars on iced coffee. Also, this is Second Coffee. I am supporting the neighborhood in a myriad of ways, and this is one.
Two weeks ago I woke up feeling like absolute dogshit and as soon as I left Ciao Gloria with my iced coffee I felt a billion times better. That sounds hyperbolic, but I measured it. They're also really nice there. I felt like I could soldier on and buy some salads for the work week, and I did.
There are good things beyond pastry cream. I read about a green comet that’s streaking through the pre-dawn skies for the first time since the Stone Age. Apparently green is common, but I didn’t know that until this morning. What a world! Of course, it was overcast all weekend, but I always have my eyes on the night sky. I walk home from work twice a week with my head tilted upward.
Always your friend,
Katherine