There is nothing I love better than doing my income taxes -- unless it is getting a wisdom tooth extracted. The IRS doesn't pull wisdom teeth, but it does extract your savings account out of the bank.

Most people hate April 15, the deadline for filing. I hate Jan 31, the deadline for income and interest statements. When I get tax forms in the mail, that means it is time to get my information together for the CPA. I don't know why I have an accountant do my taxes as getting the paperwork together is the real work. All she has to do is write the numbers on a form.

I pulled all the things that I thought might apply to taxes right after the first of the year and put them in a large envelope, which would break my foot if I happened to drop it. On the bright side, that might give me a large medical deduction for next year.

I have had a lot of medical expenses in the past year, and you are allowed to claim out of pocket medical expenses over a certain percentage of your income. I never can remember the percentage. My CPA knows. Maybe she is good for a few things after all.

I hate paperwork, especially paperwork involving money I've spent. Going though receipts for the past year reminds me of all the non-deductible things I'm trying to forget, like the expensive squeak in my new refrigerator and the stove that shot sparks across the kitchen.

I was trying to rectify my receipts against my bank statement last night while honey was watching TV:

"Can you turn down the noise," I snapped.

"It isn't that loud," he growled.

If there is anything I hate worse than taxes it is that TV program "WipeOut." Of all the juvenile, ignorant programs on the boob tube, it is the worst. When he went out to walk the dog, I turned it off. When he came back in, he turned it back on.

I was so stressed out with numbers by that time that I was ready to throw all the papers across the room. I don't know how anyone can do people's taxes for a living. I would be stark raving mad by the end of the first week. Heck, I'm already stark raving mad after an hour.

My son came in, saw the paper storm and asked what I was doing. "Income taxes and stay out of my way." I barked. He did.

Things never seem to match up exactly right. This time it was a dental receipt for $400 that was missing. Now I will have to get the dentist to send me a stupid duplicate in case the stupid IRS decides to do a stupid audit.

Other than that, I think I am ready to call for an appointment and see how much money I own them this year. I always have to pay. What I would really like to do is claim a standard deduction and let the IRS scratch its head. Sometimes I think I would probably come out just as well.

Thank goodness I do not have a business or I would never get my taxes done. My CPA says my writing income is considered a hobby, not a business, which makes it far less complicated. That's a good thing as I would probably break something if figuring deductions was any more nerve wracking.

I just need to print out a few more items on my computer and I'll be ready. And it's only February. That's two years in a row that I've managed to get things ready before April 14th without killing anyone and without losing my sanity -- almost.

If it wasn't for my accountant, I would burn my receipts, mail the IRS a check for the entire amount of my bank account, and forget it. After all, how much is your sanity worth anyhow?