Deal

Saturday I saw a bear. Sunday I saw three snakes, including one that angrily rattled its tail ten feet away from where I stood. Later I drank a liter and a half of scum water because I was desperate enough to drink water with bugs in it.

Laura and I backpacked in the Pine Mountain Wilderness Area last weekend. We intended to do a thirteen-mile loop hike along the Verde Rim, but Sunday morning, seven miles in—that's over halfway—we turned around and backtracked. We turned around because we struggled to stay on the faintly marked trail and because the rattlesnake spooked us and had us imagining every wind-rustled leaf and lizard-nudged rock to be a snake.

I enjoy our backpacking trips into the wilderness. Arizona is a tough place, and spending just one night in it reminds me of the distinction between appreciating nature and romanticizing it. I know a trip is a tough one when I return to the car and am happy to spend a few hours driving back to the smog and noise of the city.

As if to symbolize my urban life, today I mailed my taxes. Today is the deadline, so we all should have mailed them by today. Do you know your tax rate? Not your tax bracket—your rate. Divide how much you pay into your income. I know my rate: for 2010 it's 20%.

That counts everything that's income-related: Social Security and Medicare (the half I pay, not my employer's half), Arizona state, and US federal. US federal—what is actually called “income tax”—accounted for slightly more than half the 20%. Arizona took one-tenth of the 20%.

Twenty percent is not much. Many people argue that I and others pay too much. I'm told that one-fifth of my paycheck is stolen and that it's “my money.” Yet if a thief took one-fifth of my paycheck and built and maintained roads, set aside land for wilderness areas, and provided the other public infrastructures and services I use, then I condone theft. Twenty percent is a good deal.