The folder was a large accordion file, the kind with multiple interior sections. I had labeled the sections with small adhesive tags: HOUSEHOLD EXPENSES, MEDICAL/CARE, VEHICLE, REPAIRS, INCOME RECORDS, CORRESPONDENCE. Inside each section, documents were organized by date. Not every document was there. Some things I’d paid for in cash, especially in the early years when my tracking habits were less consistent. Some records were in my email rather than in the folder. But a substantial portion of twelve years of financial activity was there, in paper or printout.
Maya is not a lawyer. She’s also not an accountant, though she’s better with numbers than most people I know. What she brought to that table was patience and the willingness to look at things clearly.
“Okay,” she said, opening her laptop. “Walk me through the categories.”
We spent about four hours that first day. Maya built a spreadsheet — she does everything in spreadsheets, which I appreciated — and we went category by category. I read off entries. She input them. When something was unclear or I wasn’t sure of the year, we dug into the supporting documents.
The household expense category was the largest and the messiest. Twelve years of small purchases: the grab bars, the raised toilet seat, the medical transport, the Costco membership, the minivan acquisition, the bathroom adaptation work. I had most of it. For some early items I had the receipts without the bank statements; for later ones I usually had both.
We also talked through what wasn’t there.