paper chains, tailing out behind me…
February 19, 2005
I’ve scheduled today as a day for the preparing of income tax. What joy, what bliss. Sifting through stacks of pages, hunting for vital reciepts, cleaning up my desk and bedroom dresser and behind my bedroom dresser where a fistful of reciepts fell. Trying to cipher and decipher ancient reciepts, like some mad beaurocratic archaeologist. There ought to be a law against businesses using low-ink cartridges to print off their reciepts. Some of them are giving me eyestrain.
I used to just take it all to H&R Block, but these days I’ve got so many businesses on the go, it’s worth it to figure it out myself. Saves on fees.
My week off is winding to a close. Haven’t accomplished everything I set out to do, but I’ve decided to be optomistic. I accomplished a lot.
New York still hasn’t contacted me with a mega-million publishing deal. Can’t figure out what’s holding up that particular unfolding of destiny.
It’s good to see my desktop again. I’m finding notes for stories and letters from editors. A half-starved muskrat who skulked in over the winter, looking for warmth in the many layers of predigested pulp upon my desktop. A moth that I’d killed two years ago.
Agh. Now I’m making up crap to avoid confronting the tallying of my 2004 reciepts.
Back to work.
Yours in horror,