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Friday, 8 February 2013

Stones

On the short ride to the bus stop aunt A mentioned I need an ID and I casually mentioned I wanted to arrive early to university on Monday to assist a course in taxes for students like myself. Aunt A told me to ask uncle A about such things before and instead of taking the course because he's bound to know some way to cheat the system so I don't have to pay. You may be able to guess this suggestion didn't sit well with me, at all. To be honest, I no longer remember exactly how the conversation turned to aunt A stating that I always reply with a stone (or two, she added) in hand Somewhere along the line I pointed out I'd merely suggested the idea of going to a purely informative event and that she'd used that to tell me not to go until I spoke with uncle A. I didn't exactly lash out. If I had, it would have been ugly.

I would have inevitably pointed out I don't take well with being told what to do, especially when what I'm told to do is against the law. I resent their possibly well-intentioned instructions to do things their way because to them it's the only way, to me it is a wrong way and I don't care for being considered stupid. There, I said it. If there is a course offered to me it is implied that I can understand what will be explained to me and can file taxes on my own, with the help of people whose job it is to help me get it right. I don't want to get in trouble for owing any government money and the surefire way to del with that is to do things by the book.

A bargain price is one thing, avoiding taxes is a very different one and not one I'm willing to be understanding of in their case. In their case, it's true that rich people get that way by being stingy and I don't appreciate that kind of hypocrisy.
If it so pleases aunt A, and I know it won't, I will answer with a stone hand, attached to a stone body. I'll be a damned island.

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