The Audit

Like most of us, Don Hughston doesn’t like to pay taxes. Unlike most of us, he did something about it: he kept every receipt and tried to legally write off as many expenses as he could as “business” expenses.

Some years ago, he said, he had a small apartment in Denver, a living room-kitchen combo, one bedroom, one bath. He said he slept on a futon in the living room.

Don Hughston
Don Hughston

His deductions were way outside the norm and the U.S. Internal Revenue Service was auditing his tax return again.

Don had claimed his bedroom as an “office” and, as a result, had written off a good portion of his rent and utilities.

“Where do you sleep?” the IRS tax examiner asked, and he obviously did not believe the answer — in the living room on a futon.

Because the tax examiner said, “OK, let’s go see,” or words to that effect. And they got in the taxman’s car and drove to Don’s apartment.

In the living room, just like Don said, the tax examiner found a futon and it looked like it had been slept on.

But the examiner would not give up.

“Where do you keep your clothes?” he asked.

“In the closet in the bedroom, but I didn’t claim that space as a business expense,” Don told him.

How do you get to the closet to get your clothes.”

It was a tiny win for the IRS: The examiner disallowed the deduction for the pathway from the living room to the clothes closet.

Coming Monday: Hold Your Nose, Pat

What’s That Thing We Used To Do?

When Cleave was a young man he worked at a sawmill.  Later on, he was a janitor at a church in Charlotte.  They treated him pretty good and when he got to be an old man –waiting for his bus to heaven, he said — he spent some days just sitting in the sun, speaking to friends who passed his way.

I knew him but my brother, Dave, was a friend.  One morning we passed his way on purpose.  Dave took Cleave some fish and chips  and we sat and talked.

I don’t know if Cleave ever learned to read but he was a good story teller.  He got to talking about the old days, when he was a young man. He said he got paid in cash after work on Fridays.

“And I’d go into town, and I’d buy a bottle of liquor and I’d find a woman and we’d, we’d — what’s that thing we used to do?” he asked us.

And then he laughed, a laugh that started in his belly and made me envy his contentment.

Coming Monday: Bear Bryant Called