Holed Up

I'm buried under a pile of tax forms over here. Yes, I do my own taxes too. "Is there nothing you don't do yourself?", you may ask. Pretty much no. It's all me, all the time.

I suppose I could lug the whole mess of paperwork over to some seasonal desk jockey at a tax preparation place. But it seems like more work than just filling in the forms here. Explaining it all to somebody outside of this circus would be a nightmare. And as a Mac user - I'm left out of all those little easy-peasy computer programs that do it all for you. But I'm guessing they wouldn't address all the business expense issues anyway. It all works out. Just takes a few days of rooting around for numbers and punching away on the calculator.

So I'm just poking in to say, shhhhhh. Quiet please. I need to concentrate or it will be just like a couple of years ago when I made all those stupid math errors. I got distracted between transferring a few sooooper important numbers, and then the math didn't work. And they had to send me a whole correction thingie in the mail, pretty much nailing me for being dumb. I was just lucky that ended up being a tiny difference in tax money instead of big, huge, oops you owe us your house mistake. Anyway, I don't want to do that again. Keeping my focus and double-triple checking everything before I send it off.

I need to get it out of here and over to the bean counters pronto so that my rebate, er economic stimulus check can be sent to me. Uh huh.

Be back in a day or two when it's over. I've got big news about a small storefront on Capitol Hill that I'm going to fill for the week before Mother's Day. Just sorting that out too. All the deets next week.