My brain hurts. Does that mean it will have to be removed?
When Shakespeare wrote about the winter of our discontent, he was not talking about politics. Oh, no. He was talking about taxes. Or perhaps of composing a short biography.
I had a short bio due to an editor yesterday. An easy task: 50-100 words. Piece o' cake. Pardon me while I emit howls of derisive laughter. The problem is how to make it sound good while not going too overboard to toot one's horn, so to mix methaphors in a manner of speaking. (Can you tell it's been a long two days? Please forgive the fractured prose.)
The bio was managed, the editor pronounced that it was good, and so I went on to do taxes.
The self-employed amongst you know that today is the day that the fourth quarter payment must be mailed to the IRS. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth, even though this is one aspect of my life that's fairly well organized. Stuff generally goes into the appropriate files as they come in, and since I pay quarterly estimated taxes it's worth my while to keep up with the paperwork. Even so, it's a job I hate and will put off until the very last minute. Sorry, IRS. I'm honest and will pay what's due, but that doesn't mean I have fun doing it.
I still have to do state sales taxes on Thursday. I have all of my supporting documents for that together; it's just a matter of filling out a form and writing a check. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes but I have an aversion to doing too much tax work at once.
Then it was on to the bills. Boy, it was just one fun thing after another today.
Oh, well. The nasty jobs are out of the way and now I can settle down and watch the telly for a bit before I crawl into bed with a book. I'm re-reading Lucky Jim. Last week I finished re-reading Stephen Fry's The Hippopotamus. Now that payday has come and the taxes are out of the way, I think I'm due a trip to the bookstore. B&N and Petco are in the same shopping center, so I can run two errands at once and save gas! That's the ticket!
Alrighty. I think it's time to go zone out.
(And yeah, the rending of cloth over the bio does mean that I may finally be able to make that long-awaited announcement. Of course, by the time I make it the whole thing will be an anti-climax, won't it? As long as the check clears [and the IRS gets their cut] that's all that matters, I suppose.)