Filing, with Occasional Music

Picked up the corporate tax returns from the accountant yesterday. Small amounts of tribute required to placate both gummints. We can do this. Group hug.

This morning entailed some bouncing back and forth between banks, as well as the gym thing and a run to the Post Office, where I scored -- wait for it -- two SFWA Bulletins and a PW. At home the mail was My Personal Invitation to join the Literary Guild Bookclub. No bills. Group hug.

Also at home -- the filing. Nice big pile of filing. Honestly, you'd think we ran a business or three outta this house. I've been filing for a couple hours, and the pile's still tall, but some of that's chapbook masters that just need to be stuck back into their drawer, so it's not as bad as it looks. She said chirpily.

After the filing's done, I need to do the corporate April profit-and-loss, which I should've done over the weekend, but didn't because I wanted to write instead.

After the reports, it's back to The Nameless, which has gone all slow and careful on me again (insert mutter here). Been doing some Heavy Cogitation on novels-to-be-proposed -- the gym-thing is good for that kind of thinking. Don't believe I'm far enough along to really start sketching things in, but it won't hurt to make some note-like objects.

Break's over. Back to the files.

Filing music: Warren Zevon, Life'll Kill Ya and Ray Wylie Hubbard Eternal and Lowdown. Next up, The Waybacks.

Tickets, Polls, and Profit the hard way

The train tickets have arrived! Yes! We're going to Salt Lake City! ConDuit, May 28, 29, and 30. Be there or be somewhere else!

Looking forward to the con, and to maybe seeing something of the city -- this will be my first visit -- and to finally chatting with people I've known for years in email.
******

The filing is done. The P&L is done. SRM made a profit in April. Profit good. Multi-digit Profit better, of course, but any lack of loss is OK by me.

Doing the P&L took somewhat longer than it should have, due the superior quality of this afternoon's feline supervision.

Mozart leapt up onto the desk, landed on the adding machine(clicketyTHUNK!), freaked, twisted 'round on himself and pushed into orbit. The adding machine did the equal-and-opposite-reaction thing, skated off the desk, did a double somersault, and landed on the floor. Various papers and pages flew high into the air, then snowed gently down on the battered machine, which had fallen on its feed key and was rapidly running out an entire roll of paper.

After that was straightened out, it was sorta ...nice to find that profit.

Mozart, of course, is certain that the entire affair was All A Plot, and has retired to the rocking chair, from whence he from time to time declaims in his squeaky Maine Coon Cat voice. I think he may be asking the adding machine to name its seconds.
******

Lest we forget -- a new poll over at Romantic SF -- www.romanticsf.com. Vote for your favorite non-human fantasy character. Some tough choices, here, and the Sidhe are beating the pants off everybody.