Monday, March 8, 2004

Here’s something to go with your Monday coffee, gentle reader.

Friday, March 5, 2004

While we were having breakfast today, Muse suddenly interrupted the maddening scherzo of crunching with a piercing look.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Quarter-note rest.

I avoided her eyes and resumed my concert, conducting as quickly as I could compose. She sidled over.

“Tell me.”

“You already know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I told her how everyone has something embedded within that can glow brightly at times and dimly at others, and that mine had recently blinked out. I told her how the sense of place I once savored had gone missing. I told her how much it feels like I’m rounding the same corner with that same gray, ratty-looking stretch of fence. When I had told her all these things I looked up.

“Wow,” she sighed, “that’s a lot to stomach during breakfast time.”

And then that famous smile played on her lips.

“You know what? Maybe we should take a walk, take a vacation. A short one.”

I thought about it. Perhaps she was right.

“That sounds good,” I answered. “When do you want to leave?”

“Soon?”

“Okay, let me do the dishes first.”

Thursday, March 4, 2004

Tax Day is rounding the corner, gentle reader, and I’m looking for tips on how to fill out my form correctly. When I tried passing this headache on to my Accounting Department, the stupid thing landed right back on my desk. Sometimes I suspect I’m the only one working here. My in-house shrink tells me I’m right, but what does he know? After our last session, all he possesses is a PhD in “getting laid off” with a concentration in “not getting a severance package.”

That’s why I’m turning to you. I’ve seen the mind-searing packet before and here’s my rough estimation of the directions:

*zing* *bling* *bork* *bork* Go to C6 *bork* *bork* *bork*

I’ve also heard older people speak knowingly of dependants and their ilk, which only makes me want to weep sweet, hot tears. Isn’t it independence that makes this country great? That’s what they told me all through elementary school, until I found out that free t-shirts also play an integral role. Now I am faced with a solemn civic duty to report my earnings with candor and speed, to give financially if needed, to try to fit “please don’t audit my ass” into those really small boxes. Wish me luck.