Sunday, April 01, 2007

Oh, just DEAL already…

So I waddled into the office this morning saying to myself, firmly, that I was going to and this time I really mean it! take care of the paperwork issues that have begun overwhelming me in the last few months.

I regarded my desk and began to say, “Heyyyyyyy, that’s not so bad! You can handle this! Ha! No sweat! No problem! No big!!” See?

Not so bad…

And then…I looked down.


Meh. And there was more, but honestly I just wasn’t emotionally prepared to put up pictorial proof of just how far behind I have fallen on Such Matters in recent months.

This is precisely the kind of thing that has been sending my stress levels into the stratosphere. As I’ve gone a layer or two into this mess, I find myself wondering if Real Arcade had any cool new games available because…I just don’t want to deal with this.

It’s all important. It all needs to be handled. And it comes in far faster than I can get it out again.

Just like the laundry.

{And then, several hours passed}

OK, see, right in the middle of the whining, it dawned on me that really – blogging about how much I didn’t want to deal with this really wasn’t going to do much about the problem at hand.

Yes, I thought of that all by myself.

I’m clever that way.

Anyway. Since starting this four hours ago, I emptied the shredder basket twice (and need to do it a third time), and the recycling twice, paid roughly $1,700 in medical bills and $2,190 in car insurance and $4.07 to the newspaper (four dollars and 07/100’s, people) (honestly, these are the things that just kind of make me go, Huh?).

Ate a bar of Godiva chocolate I found beneath a pile of receipts. Mmmmm, the rewards of cleaning. Tasty. And not nearly as old as you might think! BONUS!!

Took a deep breath and began putting together an actual Project Folder for the remodeling project. I now have all the bids, business cards, sketches, and notes neatly contained in a very organized repurposed accordion-style folder.

With pink and orange plaid and a big white heart with black polka dots on it. And also a large purple button for the purple elastic to wrap around to close it.

The contractors are going to simply love my Project Folder, doancha think?! My husband burst into laughter when he saw it. So, you know, obviously – it is just right.

I threw away old lipsticks and some Lifesavers which were so old I swear to Dog it would have required carbon dating to determine what decade they came from. I removed approximately 6,276 CDs that someone (*cough-husband-cough*) had dumped on my desk at some point and conveniently forgotten about.

I found a total of five (5) skeins of yarn hiding under the desk. Three cheap acrylic and two semi-cheap wool. Well, my goodness, y’all. The stash, she is sneaking back into the house even faster than anticipated!!

At which point, I had this:

Hey, a desk!

…and this…

My goodness, is that CARPET?!

I then felt justified in taking a brief break to watch my Eldest playing a video game. I offered many excellent suggestions, which she took in reasonably good grace for a while before turning around in her chair and saying, with remarkable gentleness for a nine year old being annoyed by her geek mother, “Mommy, are you quite sure you don’t have something else you should be doing?”

Humph. Look, all I’m saying is, if you want to kill the Giant Spiders, running away from them isn’t going to help! I propose using either a mace or an axe and whacking the devil out of them until they spray green goo all over the place and lie down like any good (= dead) spider should.

That’s all I’m saying.

Ahem. Anyway, thus scolded by a child who would rather spend time pulling out her own toenails with tweezers than doing her ho-hum-homework, I returned to my desk and the one thing still hanging over me like a leaky sheet full of dog poop: our taxes.

As I expected, we owe significant money this year. Expecting it, of course, does not reduce my ‘oh, come ON!’ whining one little bit. It’s one of the odder of my schizophrenic tendencies: I don’t mind paying my fair share of taxes. It’s a common good thing, and I like to feel as though I’m putting my oar in to keep the country going.

On the other hand…YOU WANT HOW MUCH OF MY MONEY?!?! OH COME ON!!!!!! Isn’t there somebody, you know, wealthier, who could pay this?!?!?!


Oh well. Shutting up, waving flag a bit, being proud of my country (zits and all) and pleased that I made so much money last year and sending my fair share off now.

Which reminds me: I sang America the Beautiful for Boo Bug last week on the way to daycare, and now she demands a performance every morning. America! America! God mend thine every flaw… (including thy overly complicated tax code which makes it all but impossible for Joe A. Citizen to figure their taxes correctly on their own, hallelujah amen…)

So. Now that I have a clean desk, I can get back to what I really need to be focusing on: The post-quitting-my-job budget.

Ay, carumba. Where’s my Tylenol, dudes…?


Amy Lane said...

hee could still see space on your desk... hee hee...

Very Herodotus said...

Hey look! Carpet! hahaha

wrnglrjan said...

'Like a leaky sheet full of dog poop'?

Please explain.


P.S. Good luck with the home-based business. I am particularly interested in how you manage health insurance for a family if you're both self-employed ... (because it really is all about me).

Susan said...

That's the verse of America the Beautiful that transforms me from semi-professional cynic into blubbering sentimental patriot. Seriously, it's practically the Ugly Cry. Gets me... sniff... every... gulp... time... HONK (blowing nose in Friday's lunch napkin).

Speaking of which, I should follow your lead with my work desk. Here's a preview:
"Oh! That's where that is!"

SheepsPyjamas said...

I need the Tylenol just thinking about it -- I'm with Amy Lane... If the piles aren't toppling off the top, they're still neat, right? I do, every so often, find desk and carpet as you so diligently have, but I admit I tend to start from just a bit more severe (blame the kids, it's all that cleaning up after them that makes me less likely to clean up my own mess, right?)...

Mother of Chaos said...