Holy schnikes, people! I have absolutely no choice but to spend my entire evening trying to do my taxes or at least file an extension. What is wrong with me?
Yesterday’s burst of house cleaning energy was apparently a weird form of diversionary procrastination, as though my brain was trying to keep me as busy as possible so it didn’t have to face the tax paperwork.
I’m happy that I did almost all of my laundry, my house smells pretty good, and I managed to locate my husband’s car insurance card so he can renew his license tag. Unfortunately, that doesn’t get me any closer to satisfying my annual legal requirements as a wage earner in the U.S. and two states.
On a more positive note, yesterday’s lead guitarist audition went well. If the guy decides to join the band, that’ll mean that everyone in the group who plays a stringed instrument is named John. As if it weren’t confusing enough to have two Johns already. On the other hand, I’ll be able to get everyone’s attention at once by simply shouting "John!" over my mic.
So you know what I’ll be doing after work tonight. No Twitter. No Bloglines. No TV. Just sorting through piles of dusty correspondence and entering figures into the computer. I’d ask you to wish me luck, but I don’t deserve it at this point.
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