There's a man with a gun over there

[rolanni]

Sarah came, she cleaned, she left. The cats all came back to Steve's office with me, and we read the first 50ish pages of LUC6.

My duty to the cats has been performed. The oven is heating for lunch.

After, I'll work on the taxes for awhile. I'm not sure if everybody is being Very Diligent about their 1099s this year, or if I'm in a time-slip. Or, yanno -- both. In any case, those columns of numbers ain't adding themselves.

This year the CPA had opted to go Electronic Only for its fact-finding questionnaire, and I hate it with a Deep and Abiding Hatred, leavened with Frustration. Also, the upcoming snow event is weighing on my mind. I think I may not be ready for a blizzard. And February lies before me. I'm not particularly sanguine about February this year.

Also, yanno, ICE is in Maine doing its damnedest to make the False Narrative that we are a hellscape of crime and brutality into reality.

*raises hand*

May I fast forward to April 25, please?

No, didn't think so.

How's everybody doing at midday, Eastern?
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So, I called the CPA and the poor young person who answered the phone had to tell me that, nope, I can't download the questionnaire until it's filled out, adding that she is compiling A List for the people who market this program to CPA firms, because I am not the first one of their clients to have blown a gasket.

The solution was to go to the office -- which, thank ghod, is only ten minutes away -- to pick up a paper copy to work from. I have done this.  I have also, hopefully, provided the necessary encouragement to change the name on the account to Sharon Lee, as today was the third time I was asked if the account might be under another name.  I was Not Nice.  "Why," I said, "maybe it's under my dead husband's name?"  And, yep, that's where it was.

On the way home, I picked up a chocolate milkshake. With whipped cream.

I am now going to go drink said milkshake and then make several copies of the paper form.

Technology. It will make everything easier.

Yeah...
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In all, this has been . . . a trying day. I'm exhausted. Did get some things accomplished in a taxward direction. It just seems so unfair that you have to do all this work only to have to write a check at the end of it. Yes, yes, I know -- some people get money back on their taxes. That? Has not been my reality for a Very Long Time.

Poor Rookie is starving.  Happy Hour is days late and he has Composed a Poem regarding this tragedy, which he is shouting non-stop from all corners of the house -- testing the acoustics, I guess. The girls are occupying various High Places well out of the Poet's way.

I briefly thought about hiding under the bed, but then I remembered that I have a Captain's Bed, so that's out.

Tomorrow will be more of the same, and the day after that, as well. I do find that some places are stating that they'll issue the damned 1099s on January 31 and not one minute earlier, so that's good to know, and I can't for the life of me remember what I did about BN; as in, if I closed that account entirely. I can't seem to get into my publisher account there. OTOH, they did sent me $150 last year.

I need to remember to write things down. And then I need to remember where I wrote them down.

It may be I'm losing this whole Going it Alone Thing by Slow Attrition rather than A Bolt from the Blue.

And on that cheerful thought, I bid everyone goodnight.

Be careful, stay safe. I'll check in tomorrow.

Today's blog post title brought to you by Buffalo Springfield, who first sang it in 1966. "For What It's Worth."