Writing Wrongs

February 25, 2005

I think we overdosed on the wackiness last night. At four this morning, Andrew woke up with the stomach flu. (Or as he points out, “It was 3:51, Mommy.”) And he’s got it bad, too. Poor thing. Kyra still has her cold, so they’ve both been sacked out on the couch most of the morning.

In fact, both are on the edge of a nap as I type this. If my babies weren’t sick, it would be kind of cute.

But now that they’re quiet and resting, I’m kind of antsy. I feel as though I should be at work, helping with the software upgrade (hey, it was supposed to go down yesterday, so no, I didn’t plan this). I thought, maybe I could put together a few submissions. But what if I’m contagious? Do germs stick to paper? I can see it now:

Dear Writer,
It is with regret that we must pass on your submission. Quite frankly, it made us barf.

Okay, so maybe not. Then I thought, the big T. That’s right.

Taxes.

Ugh.

I really miss the days when I could take my W2 to H&R Block and call it done. Now it’s all Schedule C and all the rest. We have an accountant, but since we’re not eccentrically rich, there’s stuff I need to put together on my end, hence no shoebox filled with receipts for us.

I so do not want to do the taxes, but what better time to do them, when everyone feels like puking anyway. And I have this “thing” about getting them to the accountant before the end of February. The closer the date, the bigger the block I have for doing anything fun, be it writing, reading, or what have you.

Wish me luck.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 12:26 p.m.

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