Ugh.

Doing taxes for a year when I was self-employed as a writer is nearly reason enough to ditch the idea altogether. Have I mentioned that I am a numbers dunce? I’m grateful for the easy walk-through with Tax Act, but I always have major anxiety about filing; this year I not only have the self-employment income, but a dependent child, so I feel certain I’m going to muck it up somewhere. Thankfully, I have plans this evening that will take me far away from the computer and the W-2s and the endless fields of repetitive data entry.

Also, Joshua is standing over my shoulder and making it hard to think of anything to write.

And now he’s laughing.

And flapping his arms.

And saying, “Seriously? SERIOUSLY????”

…. I thought that might make him run off. It almost did.

But he’s back.

And laughing harder.

So with that, I shall bid you goodnight, and leave you with his final words, “That’s awesome. That was funny. ….What?? WHAAATTTT??? Noooo, NOOOOO, Don’t, I’m outta here! Call the FBI, call the Los Angeles Police Department, call anybody…….!”


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