All Grow’d Up

It is official, Super H and I are all grow’d up and technically have to act like responsible adults from today forward *gulp* Ok well at least where tax is involved. Until this very moment tax was a word I had heard often, normally accompanied by the occasional “stronzo” by the parental unit known as dad, but I had never quite grasped the concept of what it really entailed. Tax to me was like what the Universe was to Arthur Dent…

Even when I was welcomed, read shoved, into the working world in 2005 I just shrugged of the tax thing as something my rentals had to deal with. I mean, me deal with this tax thing – surely they must be mistaken… Me? Tax? Ba hum bug! Of course this living in ignorance thing had to end eventually, as all great fairytales do *sigh*

So today Super H and I took the bold leap into grow’d up hood together – we filled out our tax registration forms and with some luck we should be registered tax payers within the next few weeks. Who knew that filling out such simple looking forms would turn into such a fucking mission and test the mathematical skills of Super H and I to their limit – fucking around aside, this was a job for The Calculator and of course a few consultations later with our Pay Roll Lady and we were on our way… Shwabang!

Apparently, this tax man person gives you money back – INCREDIBLE! YAY 4 SARS! I think I’ll go buy those Jimmy Choo's now…