Taxed time
With more than a full day of slack time, I’ve completed the four “declarations” of income. I feel empowered. And I feel like celebrating, which is silly. This is nothing more than bureaucratic nonsense. The two tiers of governance know exactly how much I’ve earned. They know, to the penny, how much they owe me. After all, my payments were made in full, and the excess will be remitted to me, without interest. There’s something fundamentally flawed, here.
Alas, I am but a small cog in a very large series of interlocking sprockets. Is that the right analogy? Probably, because I do not have a full understanding of fiscality. The complexity of the requisite forms leave me speechless, year after year. Completion is a relief.
Today, I prepared a tasty batch of pork curry, using the slow cooker. No difference in flavour (or cooking time) from my traditional use of a crock in the oven, but I suppose I could now risk leaving this to a “through the workday” scheme. Had to go out to find the matching noodles, and I waited at a green light while someone else turned left on the red. No last minute dash, either. A slow, deliberate breech of etiquette. He probably thinks it’s the way things are supposed to be done, just like those who park in the fire lane outside the local store. I want compulsory driver training and retesting, and I want it now!
Still seeking the perfect code paddles. I’ve emailed a firm in England, just to see what the Old Country has to offer.
