Tired, unhappy

“Make sure you’re sitting down before you open this.” Not the subject line you want to see on an email from your accountant; it turns out that I’ve made a complete and utter arse of some tax stuff and as a result, I’ve got until 31st January to find a sum of money that’s even bigger than the sum of money I reckoned I had no chance of raising by then. Maybe I should become a celebrity blogger:

Liberals are wusses! Saddam is evil! Pay with PayPal!

Hmmm. Maybe not.

I think I’ll have to classify this week as a write-off: not only have I landed in deep tax trauma, but I’ve got a bloody sore back, I managed to stab my tongue with a toothbrush while half-awake the other morning, I’ve got writer’s block and there’s the beginning of The Biggest Spot of All Time on my chin.

On a brighter note, I’ve discovered that Java is the crack cocaine of the coffee world. Tasty, too.

4 thoughts on “Tired, unhappy

  1. Squander Two says:

    How is your back? Sore in a “We have to destroy it to save it” sort of a way, or sore with no end in sight?

    Anyway, at least you only have to write off a week, not a year. [Wanders off to write condolence cards to self in frenzy of self-pity.]

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