About 5'3", and no good.
If you're really wondering what I'm spending my spare time working on (instead of keeping my house fastidiously tidy* and my son full to the brim with edutainment**) here is a clue:
It really is a walk down memory lane, going through all the receipts and credit card bills.
"Remember that one trip to the ER?"
"Insurance didn't really cover too much of that, did they?"
"Good times. Good times".
The thing is, we have someone who does our taxes.
And yet.
And yet.
It's still a pain in the ass.
*It could happen. If I were hypnotized and drugged.
**Hey. I helped him build a leprechaun trap, didn't I? An afternoon in front of the tv won't kill him.
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1 comment:
Ooooh. Taxes. Hate them. Just wish we could load up all the crap into an old shoebox, drop it off with the accountant, and leave it at that. But no....So much prep work to do, ledgers to keep...hate it.
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