You’d think by now I’d realise that letting fear rule me is stupid. You’d think after the incident with The Thing on My Leg, I would realise that fear only creates useless extra stress. You’d think that but you’d be wrong.
Way back in April, right at the very last minute so as not to be penalised, I filed my taxes. It was my first tax return in Canada and so I couldn’t submit it online, since they didn’t actually have any details for me in the system. I dutifully went to H&R Block and got a lovely gentleman named Norman to help me complete the forms and organise for it to be mailed in. Because of my work situation (being contract and technically freelance) I owed a lovely little sum and I wanted to get it paid before the end of the month so I wouldn’t have to pay interest. Norman gave me a form to take to the bank and they dutifully took out the lovely little sum and deposited it in the Government’s bank account. I then forgot all about it.
Fast forward to the beginning of June and I opened my mailbox to a gorgeous brown envelope from the Canadian Revenue Agency asking me to pay my taxes, plus some interest. I freaked out and, instead of calling them the next day, I stuck the envelope in my drawer and told myself they would hopefully realise their mistake and find the money I’d paid them. There were a few sleepless nights after that but then I went to San Francisco, got engaged, came back and then spent 3 weeks with my parents.
Fast forward again to 2 weeks ago when I opened my mailbox again to find another gorgeous brown envelope. This one I tossed into my work bag, intending to call them the next day. The next day turned into the next, into the next and suddenly it was invading my sleep again and probably creating a hernia.
Today I opened the envelope, intending to get the number to call and sort all of this out. I tore open the back, took a deep breath, and pulled out the letter, which stated …
They had sorted themselves out, found my money and I didn’t owe anything.
I’ll let you sit with that for a minute. Everything I had hoped would happen did, except by not opening the envelope for TWO WEEKS I robbed myself of 2 weeks worth of sleep and gave myself insane stress.
How stupid am I?
No, don’t answer that. I know I’m dumb.
Moral of the story: open the damn envelope and deal with it instead of creating extra stress by allowing The Fear to take over. You all probably know that already and, to tell you the truth, I thought I did too. Obviously I gots some learning to do.