I think this is the worst day of my life that didn't have to do with love and boys. That's still probably not true, but GOOD GOD tax day is hellish. I suppose it's my own fault for not being quite as prepared as I could've been, but can you ever be truly prepared for your very fist tax day?
Yes, I know you can. Leave me alone.
I was going to try to start the defrazzlement by getting a much needed haircut, but the neighborhood place wanted to charge me 45 dollars. That is ricockulous, and thus, I stay shaggy. I looked at the internet for a little while, but something tells me I will end up back with my newly borrowed copy of Cat's Cradle on the couch in the other room for a bit before I start working again. Or rather, start working at all, for today.
Not to say that I haven't accomplished smallish sporadic necessities, but the big job of the day has been deferred due to, yes, unmitigated tax hell. Actually, it appears I like to lie today, because it was mitigated greatly. My dad did most of my taxes. All I had to do was get the pre-pay for the first quarter of this year in and speed off my W-2 from the one employment I had this year. Those two tasks, however, managed to take up the majority of my day, requiring TWO trips downtown instead of one, but again that is my fault.
I think rather than blaming tax day, we had rather blame my ineptitude in dealing with it. And with that, I hope the rest of the week proves far more successful than the past two days. Good evening!